The Armor of Vader
by Kenya Starflight
Summary: Sequel to Eye of the Storm. Less humor, more action, more romance, more angst, more drama, etc. The further adventures of the Fetts, Skywalkers, and Jedi Order.
1. Unwelcome Surprise

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the sequel to "Eye of the Storm." I highly recommend that you read it first -- otherwise you will be very confused. Also, this story isn't a humor entry, but focuses more on the relationships of the Skywalkers and the New Jedi Order. The Earth characters will have much less involvement. Sorry.  
  
Chapter I - Unwelcome Surprise  
  
From all outward appearances, Earth was a nondescript blue world on the extreme fringes of the Outer Rim. It boasted a population of nearly seven billion, a good number but incomparable to Corusant's trillion-plus residents. The planet was somewhat behind the rest of the galaxy technology-wise, and it had few heavy deposits of ore, major crops, or other exportable goods that the rest of the galaxy valued beyond items of curiosity.   
  
But it was just in this category, items of curiosity, that Earth excelled. This little system had carved out its niche in the Republic, and its exports were slowly but surely leaving their thumbprint on life in general. All things Earth were leaking into the New Republic and were here to stay.   
  
This Admiral Piett bemoaned as he began to rail on a trio of stormtroopers who stood at attention on the bridge of the Executor.   
  
"How many times do I have to tell you?" he barked. "Your duty comes before all else, and your duty is to protect this ship and its occupants. You must remain on guard at all times. And how do you expect to remain on guard when you have THIS on at full volume?" He shook the plastic disk at them.   
  
The trooper to the far right, one TK-333, squeaked "It wasn't full volume, sir."   
  
"I don't care; it was much louder than permissible," Piett replied sternly.   
  
"Can't a clone have a little fun?" snorted the one on the left, TK-409.   
  
"When you're not on duty, I don't care what you do," Piett replied. "You can listen to this... noise for all I care. But if any of you start neglecting your duties in favor of 'a little fun,' you'll be transferred out of the Executor Garrison immediately."   
  
He took a little perverse satisfaction in seeing all three cringe. Serving on the Executor was a much-coveted position among the Earth stormtroopers, if only because the Stardestroyer's troops rarely saw combat. In the clones' eyes, being kicked off the ship was as humiliating as an officer losing his stripes.   
  
"You're dismissed," Piett said finally.   
  
The third trooper, TK-577, waited until his companions had left, then held out his hand.   
  
"Can I have my Smashmouth CD back, sir?"   
  
The Admiral sighed and returned the disk. "That's what you call this racket, then. Quite accurate."   
  
"That's the band name," 577 corrected. He chuckled. "You wouldn't really kick any of us off ship. You're too nice."   
  
Piett grunted and turned back to a readout screen. "Is that a strength or a flaw?"   
  
"Who's to say? You've lasted two years under Master Skywalker's command, longer than any other Admiral on this heap. Perhaps he saw something in you that no other Admiral possessed."   
  
"An extraordinarily long lucky streak, I'll bet," Piett replied. "Why, how many Admirals did you see come and go?"   
  
"Too many." 577 lifted his helmet slightly and spit to one side, a superstitious holdover from his training days on Kamino. Kaminoans always spit to one side before discussing the departed as protection against the wrath of the dead. "When Skywalker was still Vader, he was more tolerant of his soldiers than his officers -- meaning he mostly ignored us until he needed troops to send off somewhere. Most of us live longer than the average clone, so we've seen plenty of officers come and go. Every Admiral before you was rubbish. Ozzel was a pompous stuffed shirt, Dalzor was cranky as a rancor with a toothache, Lakka was so dumb he couldn't tell a proton torpedo from an asteroid, and Miso -- let's not even discuss him!" He spit again.   
  
Piett chuckled. "I remember Miso from the Academy. Horrible, slimy backstabber of a man. I never saw Vader kill him, but they say he put up a good fight."   
  
"Fight nothing! He groveled and begged for his life like the stinking bootlicker he was! Whoever gave you that bantha poodoo had his head screwed on crooked!"   
  
"Ozzel. But seeing as he and Miso were friends at the Academy, of course he wouldn't have described him as a coward."   
  
577 saluted. "Well, best be off, sir. I have guard duty at the starboard shield generator."   
  
"Keep the music off during your shift!" Piett shouted after the departing trooper. He doubted the man heard him, or cared.   
  
He watched Earth's Indonesian Islands spin out of view as the Executor orbited the planet. What an eventful two years this had been. Under Vader's command he had seen the destruction of the Rebellion's Echo Base, the invasion of Cloud City, and the ambush of Luke Skywalker in the little-known sector of space known as Area 51.   
  
He still didn't know all the details as to what had happened during that failed mission, but from what he had been told, Vader, Luke, and Boba Fett had become stranded on Earth when the two ships capable of taking off on their own had been sabotaged. The denizens of Earth had befriended them and taken them in, thanks in part to a series of movies known as "Star Wars" that eerily detailed the rise and fall of the Empire. Then Piett had received word that Vader had defected to the Alliance, and he and a handful of his men had joined him.   
  
The Emperor, in an effort to win his right-hand man back and have Skywalker in his clutches, had kidnapped two Earth children, tried to kill one (though the boy, unbeknownst to the Emperor, had escaped), and demanded Luke in exchange for the other. Rather than comply, Vader had led a team of Rebel leaders and Earth volunteers in a bold strike against the Emperor. The monarch had met his doom in the Executor's reactor core, and Vader had renounced his Sith title, becoming Anakin Skywalker.   
  
Now Earth was a Republic world, and Anakin was serving a five-year exile on the planet. Once his sentence was up, he would once again helm the Executor, this time as a Jedi Knight.   
  
Two off-duty stormtroopers strolled past, discussing something called "Nightmare on Elm Street," whatever that was. Those Imperial troops had been a sticky situation for the Republic to handle. They were clones, grown and trained for one purpose only, so disbanding them and thrusting them into civilian life was out of the question. It had been Earth Senator Hans Luther who had proposed the soldiers serve as Earth troops. The people of Earth were familiar with them, and they would serve a worthwhile purpose to the Republic.   
  
A computer blinked a warning. He bent to examine the console, but he could find nothing wrong.   
  
He never saw the hilt of a lightsaber smash into the base of his skull, nor did he see a pair of sparkling gray eyes flash in triumph as clawed hands dragged him away.   
  
Liz elbowed her husband sharply in the ribs. "Honey, we're in public! Don't adjust your armor in front of everyone!"   
  
Boba Fett hitched up his belt one more time. "No one's watching, dear. Besides, I'm getting comfortable. That tuxedo you foisted on me was murder."   
  
"I was trying to make you look nice for the wedding," Liz snapped. "But you had to go and ruin it by wearing that blasted helmet with it!"   
  
"I think he looked good," Amethyst put in.   
  
"I think he looked like a dork," Liz countered.   
  
Amethyst sensed it was time to change the subject. She was far from Force-sensitive, but any altercation between these two produced vibes that Anakin claimed he could feel across town. Not that their marraige was in jeopardy; they were completely crazy about each other. But when they fought, things could turn ugly in a hurry.   
  
Then again, this was Vader's Elite, and things with the Elite always turned out, if not ugly, at least weird. And this occasion was no exception. This was the barbecue- reception following the double wedding of Han and Leia Organa Solo and Austin and Liberty King Powers, and the entire fan club, the Skywalker, Powers, and King families, Republic leaders, and Star Wars actors had shown up.   
  
"Check out Austin's younger brother," Amethyst suggested, pointing to Dakota Powers.   
  
"Um, what's with the bird under his arm?" asked Fett.   
  
"Oh, he's a chicken farmer from Wyoming," Liz replied. "Said his prize laying hen was in delicate health and he couldn't leave her behind. Crazy man."   
  
"Hey Fett, long time no see!" shouted Cody, Amethyst's husband, as he sauntered up. "Whatcha been up to?"   
  
Fett was about to reply when Cody turned and saw the chicken farmer. He took one look at the hen, shrieked, and ducked behind the hunter.   
  
"Oh Cody, quit overreacting," hissed Amethyst.   
  
"It's gonna eat me!" he shouted.   
  
"What's the matter, got poultry-phobia?" asked Conrad, approaching with his wife Diana and daughter Rachel.   
  
"He's got this new obsession with bad horror movies," Amethyst explained. "Last night he saw 'Food of the Gods,' a cheapo flick about giant killer rats and chickens. It's getting on my nerves -- after watching that stupid 'Orca' movie we had to cancel our vacation to Sea World."   
  
"Hey, 'Orca' was cool!" Cody protested.   
  
"So I hear you two are going to be parents!" Conrad exclaimed, changing the subject again. "Congratulations! I didn't think the adoption agency would approve you so fast."   
  
"They're just afraid to turn down anyone with the last name of Fett," Cody quipped.   
  
"Being a husband's already softened the galaxy's best bounty hunter," Conrad went on, slapping Fett's shoulder. "How'll being a father affect him?"   
  
"Do you know what child you'll be placed with?" asked Diana.   
  
"We'll find out when we go to the adoption center on Corusant day after tomorrow," Liz replied. "We didn't put down any specifications for age or gender, so we may have several to choose from."   
  
"Did you specify species?" asked Amethyst.   
  
"No," Fett replied. "Human and humanoid children are normally the first to be adopted, as the majority of adopting parents are human. Aliens often remain in orphanages and foundling homes for years before they're placed with a host family."   
  
"So you're going for an alien child," Diana noted. "How sweet. What do your parents think, Liz?"   
  
Liz gave a snarling sigh. "I can't believe my folks' gall! Dad's threatened to disown me for getting hitched to a bounty hunter! Well, fine, he disowns me, I disown him, the baby disowns him!"   
  
"He's your father," Fett defended. "A stormtrooper walked you down the aisle. I think he's got a right to be a little upset."   
  
"What about your mom?" asked Amethyst.   
  
"She's fine with it, but ooohhh, Grandpappy's in a tizzy. 'Five million bounty hunters in the Guild, and you couldn't find a nice Jewish one?'"   
  
Fett laughed.   
  
"So when's your little boy due, Diana?" asked Cody.   
  
"July 28th," Diana replied, placing a hand on her belly. "We've already picked out a name, too."   
  
"Isaiah Anakin Church," Conrad announced with a grin.   
  
"I'm sure Anakin's honored," Amethyst said.   
  
"More embarrassed than anything, really..." Diana began.   
  
A rending, deafening blast of noise smothered the rest of her sentence.   
  
"Damn!" Cody swore, running for shore. "This again?"   
  
Luke threw his head back and flung an ecstatic laugh to the wind, relishing the breeze against his face as the motorboat roared across the lake, kicking up sheets of spray. When had he last gotten a chance to simply relax and have fun? Since last year? And before that? He'd been extremely busy, what with overthrowing the Empire, helping negotiate an alliance between Earth and the New Republic, getting said Republic to approve restoring the Jedi Order, and gathering students for his Corusant Jedi Academy. He needed a day off.   
  
In the boat with him were Tina, Harrison Ford, Mark Hamill, Austin, Liberty, and Trapper. Tina and Trapper were hollering for Harrison to speed the craft up while Austin pleaded with him to slow the thing down. Liberty held a bright orange flag -- it was her duty to raise it as a warning to other boaters if someone went overboard. Mark, meanwhile, kept an eye on Brigham, who was being towed behind the vehicle on a wakeboard.   
  
"Brig still hanging in there?" asked Harrison.   
  
"Going strong!" shouted Mark.   
  
"Well, I can fix that!" Flashing a Han Solo-ish grin, Harrison brought the boat around in a sharp turn.   
  
Brigham, lying face-down on the board and clinging to it for dear life, bounced several times as the board skipped over the frothing wake. One jolt dislodged his grip, and he cartwheeled over the water before going under. He bobbed for the surface, gasped for air, and hooted in exhilaration.   
  
"What a ride!" he panted as they brought the boat alongside him and Austin hauled him in.   
  
"Nice landing," commented Trapper.   
  
"Trapper!" chided Liberty.   
  
"I'm next!" shouted Tina, ever the daredevil. She lay on the board and shouted for Harrison to not be so wimpy on her.   
  
A second boat zipped past, this one carrying Han, Leia, Mike, Steve, Opal, and Jason, with Anakin riding the wakeboard. Luke shouted a hello but doubted anyone heard him. The others couldn't hear him over both craft's engines, and Anakin was too involved to pay attention. He was totally absorbed in the speed, leaning into the curves, as if this were a podrace on water.   
  
His father looked to be having a great time. Good. The man deserved some R&R after all these years. He'd not had an easy life, first as a slave, working for a greedy junk shop owner, then a Jedi, undergoing the grueling training of the old Order. Then there had been the Clone Wars, his fall to the dark side, the Purges, and the even more brutal training of the Sith. His dark time... a time he rarely discussed even though it took up a good half of his life. No, there had not been much time for leisure in his life.   
  
Except for last year's Eye of the Storm, of course. It had been during that time that he had found the good in his father, found it and brought it forth. Of course, he'd had some help from his wacky Earth friends. He owed so much to them.   
  
The past year had been a busy time for Anakin, what with getting his visa so he could legally live in the U.S. while he served his exile, purchasing and running the garage, and doing what he could to help Luke reestablish and reorganize the Jedi Order. This was his first chance to take time off in a long time, and his last chance for another long while.   
  
And he had yet another battle ahead of him -- the battle to shed his life-sustaining armor and, through it, the last vestiges of Vader. An extensive examination by several doctors had determined that nothing short of a lung transplant would restore his breathing. But the waiting lists for donor organs were distressingly long. Another option was cloning the needed organs, but human cloning of any sort was banned on Earth due to unresolved ethical conflicts. Anakin would have to wait for either a donor set of lungs to become available, cloning to be legalized, or his sentence to end before he could be healed enough to remove the mask. Luke knew how much Anakin hated that, but for now he had to accept it.   
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a disturbing clatter. He looked around, alarmed, to see where the sound could be coming from. Was the boat's engine slipping a cog? Then he saw the smoke oozing from under the hood.   
  
"Bail out!" Luke screamed. "The boat's going to blow!"   
  
No one had the guts to disobey a Jedi, especially one who shouted in such a panicked tone. Luckily, everyone was wearing a life vest, so it was a simple matter for everyone to leap into the water and paddle away.   
  
"What's this all about..." began Mark.   
  
The boat's bow shattered, ripped apart by a massive explosion. Debris pelted the water around the blooming sphere of flame that used to be Harrison's watercraft.   
  
"Good night!" cried Jason as Han and Leia's boat pulled up to haul everyone out of the water. "What happened?"   
  
"Where's Liberty?" asked Austin as he helped Trapper into the boat.   
  
Luke scanned the water. He saw no sign of the woman. Taking a deep breath, he ripped off his life vest and plunged beneath the surface.   
  
His eyes stung from the water pressure against them, but he forced them open as he searched. The ruined hulk of the boat was sinking to the bottom of the lake, and he carefully eased himself past the debris.   
  
There! She was clawing at her legs, where she had gotten tangled in the towing line and was being dragged down by the wreck. Luke put one arm around her to keep her calm, drew his lightsaber with his free hand, and ignited it. Water around the weapon boiled and frothed as he slashed the rope and kicked to the surface.   
  
Black-gloved hands snatched the two of them and deposited them somewhat roughly in the back of the second boat.   
  
"Luke, are you okay?" asked Anakin anxiously.   
  
He nodded as he gulped in air.   
  
Austin embraced Liberty tightly, nearly hysterical with concern for her. Her left shoulder was stained red where some flying debris had struck her, leaving a gash a handspan long.   
  
"I was so scared," he whispered.   
  
"I've been told I have explosive beauty," Liberty quipped, "but this is ridiculous."   
  
Everyone burst into laughter.   
  
"So the blast didn't disrupt your charm," noted Han.   
  
Luke and Anakin locked eyes. This explosion could only have been a deliberate attack. There was no other explanation for it. That was disturbing, for while several attempts had been made on Anakin's life while he was on Earth, everyone had thought Luke to be too well-liked to be a target. Was someone out to destroy the New Jedi Order? Was the Empire planning to take back the galaxy? Or was this the work of an unknown entity?   
  
"I think the party's over," said Luke gravely.   
  
No one disagreed. 


	2. On A Mission

Chapter II - On A Mission  
  
Anakin groaned and shook his head. "No, Luke. We've been over this before."   
  
Luke sighed in exasperation. "It's necessary, Father. And I'm going to implement it whether you like it or not."   
  
Anakin glared. "Honestly, where do you get your stubborn streak?"   
  
They shared a chuckle.   
  
The elder Skywalker's three-room apartment was fairly small but adequate for one man's needs. He spent most of his time at the garage, so there were few entertainment luxuries here apart from an Xbox and an inexpensive stereo system. The living room/dining room/kitchen was tastefully decorated, with the beautiful fantasy pictures he'd taken a fancy to dominating. At the table, Anakin, Luke and Opal sat together, Opal typing on her laptop, the two men arguing.   
  
"I've gotten to the part where you and Padme reach Tatooine," Opal told him. "Where do you want me to go from here?"   
  
Anakin hesitated. That part of his life was one he tried not to consider, and he did not relish discussing it with Opal, let alone putting it in a book. For that involved the death of his mother, and the first in a series of senseless slayings, and the beginnings of his fall to the dark side...   
  
"Let me think on that for awhile."   
  
Opal shrugged. "Take as long as you need. We're in no rush. Though the publisher did say he'd like the manuscript within two years."   
  
He motioned politely for her to pause her train of thought, then turned back to Luke. "I do not require a bodyguard, Luke. I am not a feeble old man who requires 24-hour supervision. I am a Jedi. I can take care of myself."   
  
"Yes, you are a Jedi. But even Jedi are not invincible. You know that. And there's the possibility the dark side is behind this..."   
  
"The Sith Order is extinct. There's no way..."   
  
"We don't know that for sure. It's a big galaxy. And there are other Force-using factions out there besides Jedi and Sith. Who's to say one of those factions isn't out to destroy the New Jedi Order?"   
  
Anakin snorted. "I've never heard of other Force-using factions."   
  
"For starters," Opal volunteered, "there's the Nightsisters and Singing Mountain Clan of Dathomir, the Prophets of the Dark Side, the Sons of the Sith here on Earth, various self- proclaimed wizards and magicians..."   
  
"Mrs. Patten," Anakin interrupted. "You'd best head home. We'll work on the manuscript a little more tomorrow."   
  
She nodded in farewell, disconnected her laptop, packed it up, and left.   
  
Luke watched her go. "She's a nice woman. Interested in her?"   
  
Anakin wondered what Luke was getting at. "She's a fine writer. Too shy to submit her work anywhere, unfortunately, which is why I hired her as a ghostwriter. Getting this book published may give her the courage she needs to submit her own writing."   
  
Luke gave him an expectant look. "Anything else?"   
  
Was Luke hinting at what he thought he was hinting at? "Luke, she's a friend. Nothing more. I'm not interested in a romantic relationship. No woman could replace your mother. And besides," and he cast an expectant eye on Luke, "she's much closer to your age."   
  
Luke rolled his bright blue eyes. "Please, no more matchmaking. You set me up with Darcy, and it was a nightmare. She wouldn't stop talking throughout the entire date. I'm surprised she didn't lose her voice."   
  
"Sorry to hear that, but I thought you might appreciate a woman in your life. After all, I killed Mara Jade and therefore your future bride. The possibilities for your destined soulmate are endless."   
  
"Can we change the subject?" asked Luke testily.   
  
The eternal hiss-whoosh of Anakin's respirator nearly drowned out his chuckle. Ever since Cody had revealed that Mara Jade and Luke were to wed in the comic books, Anakin could never resist poking fun at his son. Privately, though, he thought that his idealistic, adventurous, loyal son would be horribly paired with the vicious, back- stabbing, emotionless Emperor's Hand. But then, he'd never really gotten to know Mara, so she could have had another side to her personality -- and he'd never know now, now that he'd run her over with Amethyst's car a year ago.   
  
"Look, I know you want your privacy, Father, but the guards will stay out of sight, I promise. You won't even know they're there."   
  
"It'll be stealth troopers, then," Anakin noted with a healthy dose of distaste. The mere mention of those soldiers rankled him. Stealth troopers were a strain of clone developed shortly after the Purges, their DNA liberally seasoned with Jedi genetic material to heighten their senses and grant them a measure of invisibility in the Force. Controversial in any era, their production hadn't pleased him even as a Sith, and he didn't want any contact with them now.   
  
"I'm sorry, but it's the only way. We're both in great danger, and on Earth you're sadly underprotected. These troopers are the best protection for you."   
  
"You aren't much safer when you're gallivanting around on Republic missions without so much as a Rogue pilot to escort your ship."   
  
"Don't worry, this trip is different. I'm taking all my teenage and adult students with me. They'll need the practice for their solo missions someday."   
  
Anakin gave a snort of laughter. "What, all six of you?"   
  
Luke smiled despite himself. Five adult Padawans and sixteen Jedi children were a pitiful-seeming start to the New Jedi Order, but still a start. And if each of those twenty- one students took on two or more students upon attaining Knighthood, and each of those took on more still, the Order could grow swiftly.   
  
"What sort of mission requires the services of six Jedi?" inquired Anakin.   
  
"Pirates have laid siege to major settlements on Tatooine, including Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, and Bestine," Luke explained. "Moisture farms and fringe settlements have been robbed and their residents beaten or even killed. The Jawa caravans have been attacked several times, and even the Hutts are being harassed.   
  
"We're to halt further attacks, contact the pirate leader, and find out what their intentions are. Then we're to either reach a compromise with them, if they're willing to negotiate, or drive them away. Mon Mothma estimates that the mission will take about two weeks."   
  
Anakin listened gravely. "I have a bad feeling about this. There's more to it than simply disgruntled pirates out for a fight."   
  
"What I don't understand is why Tatooine," Luke said, puzzled. "It's just a ball of dust and sand. If there's a bright center to the universe, that's the planet it's farthest from."   
  
"Funny, that's what Jason says about Earth," Anakin replied. "Except he uses plenty of profanity when he says it. But seriously, the entire galaxy asked 'why Naboo' when Darth Sidious and the Trade Federation invaded your mother's homeworld. And we both know what came of that. I don't know if the Tatooine crisis is something of that magnitude, but all the same, I advise you to use caution."   
  
"I wish you could come," Luke said wistfully. "You'd be a great boon to the mission, having lived on Tatooine before."   
  
Anakin closed his eyes, remembering his childhood days on Tatooine. Podracing, the thrill of his life, and his mother, kind, gentle, yet firm when it came to discipline and instruction. The Jedi, Qui-gon, who had introduced him to his gift in the Force. Padme, an oasis of beauty in Tatooine's rough-hewn dryness. But there had also been Watto, greedy and irritable, prone to rage-filled bouts of screaming and abuse, as well as the brutal Sebulba, a bully both on and off the race course. And of course, there was the incident ten years later...   
  
"Even if I weren't in exile, I don't think I could bring myself to go," he said quietly. "There are... memories associated with Tatooine that I don't care to revisit."   
  
"Like the Tusken incident?" As soon as the words passed Luke's lips Anakin caught the self-condemning thought /Damn! I shouldn't have said that!/   
  
"Yes," Anakin replied. "Like the Tusken incident." The rage, the darkness, the agony he had tasted during that massacre... yet also that power, savage and addictive as any drug. That brief foray into the dark side had been only the beginning of nearly a quarter century of senseless, agonizing evil wrought at the hands if him and his master.   
  
"Of all the things I've done," he said softly, "that sickens me the most. Partly because it profanes the memory of my mother, but mostly because it was my first step down the twisted road of the dark side."   
  
Luke smiled and gently patted Anakin's arm. "I don't know much about the Sandpeople, but I think they would forgive you if they could."   
  
Anakin grasped his son's hand. "What I always loved about your mother was her unfailing optimism. You're like her in that respect."   
  
Luke stood. "Well, I'd better be going. Our shuttle leaves in an hour. Your guards will meet us at the landing site."   
  
"What of your child Padawans? Where will they be staying?"   
  
"I wanted to ask if you would continue their training. I don't want to interrupt their lessons for two weeks."   
  
"I can do that. But where will they live? Certainly not here in my apartment."   
  
"That's another reason I'm here."   
  
"No way!" shrieked Jason. "I can handle having a bounty hunter in the house for a month and a half, but not sixteen Force-strong brats!"   
  
"Come on!" urged Patrick. "It's not like we'll be wrangling the little monkeys by ourselves. Emily and Steve offered to take their paid vacation days early to help us, and the rest of the Elite will help out where they can. Besides, it's for Luke."   
  
"Luke shmuke zuke," grunted Jason, hauling himself out of the engine of a Toyota Camry that was in its death throes. "What's that got to do with it?"   
  
"He's the boss' son, for one thing," Patrick pointed out as he finished reattaching a loose hose in a Volkswagon Jetta. "And if he weren't in the middle of giving this guy a price quote on his POS car, he'd probably have a few words with you about now."   
  
"Can't Luke find another babysitter?"   
  
"He asked the Elite..."   
  
"And why's he scootin' off on this secret mission anyway when he's got an assassin on his tail?"   
  
"The assassin's part of the reason why he's leaving, remember? If he's no longer on Earth, maybe the guy will be thrown off his trail."   
  
Jason flung his grease-stained work gloves on the table. "Pat, remember last year before Stellar-Con? When things were quiet and simple and peaceful and geek Zen? Why couldn't it have stayed that way? I mean, it used to be that the biggest thing that would happen here was that some idiot tourist would get chased down the highway by a bear or accidentally walk in on a Sons of the Sith meeting. Now a month don't go by without something in this town getting blown up or blaster-burned or have a landspeeder run through it! First Imps nuked the convention center, then Anakin's car got bombed by Rebel yahoos, yesterday was the boat-blasting..."   
  
"Quit whining," grumped Patrick. "Change isn't bad. I think the planet's improved since we came in contact with the galaxy at large."   
  
"I'll grant you that, but I wish things wouldn't have gotten so complicated. And I'm NOT playing host to Jedi younglings." He bent over the Camry's engine again.   
  
"That's a shame," Patrick sighed. "I guess we don't get the $100-a-day payment the Republic's offering."   
  
"$100 a day?!" Jason's head jerked up and thunked against the hood. "Yow! Why didn't you mention that earlier?"   
  
"You didn't ask."   
  
"Are they serious? $100 a day for Jedi daycare?"   
  
"$100," Patrick said slowly. "Per Padawan. Per day. For fourteen days. Plus expenses."   
  
Jason's mouth opened and shut like the jaws of a landlocked fish. "That... that... that's over twenty-two thousand bucks! Are they desperate or what?"   
  
"They were expecting several families to step forward and agree to each take in one or two," Patrick explained. "But we were the only volunteers, so we got the whole caboodle."   
  
"Don't tell me we're already bound and committed for this."   
  
"Yup. Before Luke leaves in... fifteen minutes he's going to drop the kids off here, then we'll walk them back to our place. Then Anakin's going to give them a Jedi lesson and we'll put them to bed. Then the fun begins tomorrow morning."   
  
"You're too damn efficient, bro."   
  
As it turned out, the entire Elite accompanied Luke to the meadow that served as a mini spaceport for Star City. His entire Jedi Order -- all twenty-one of them -- gathered around him, the children to say goodbye, the adults to protect their master (though if someone had asked them, they probably would have told them it was simply to keep the kids from crawling all over him).   
  
Two of the adult Padawans were human. Chyna Skleric was a former gunrunner from Nar Shadda, with pale skin, jet-black hair, and silver-blue eyes. She had been captured by the Empire days before the Republic's instatement, and Luke had discovered her on the prison world of Kessel. Grateful to Luke for rescuing her, she had quite willingly joined the Jedi Order.   
  
Gabriel DeBour was from Earth and was a former member of the Paris France Outpost of the Fighting 501st fan club. Being a Stargeek, he was already quite familiar with the Jedi Order and was progressing quite rapidly in his training. Being a handsome young man with dark hair and eyes, his one flaw was that he tended to attract women wherever he went, a practice he didn't encourage but didn't exactly discourage either.   
  
Korbanna (also known as Korie), a silver-furred teenage Wookie whose only garment was a leather-and-durasteel shoulder holster from which a blaster and her lightsaber hung, towered over the rest of the trainees. Once an Imperial slave, it had been her telepathic skills that had attracted Luke to her. She spoke no Basic and so wore a translation device on her shoulder, but she preferred to speak telepathically to the other Jedi.   
  
Quite in contrast with Korie's tall, shimmering form, Hekku was a Geonosian -- short, gnarled, and crook-legged with locust-like wings and a long sour-looking face that was puckered as if he'd been sucking on a bar of cleaning compound. But he was fond of the Wookie, and the two were practically inseparable. Hekku had grown up in a Corusant circus until a routine tissue-sample analysis had revealed his midi-chlorian count was exceptionally high. He'd been quite willing to quit the circus and joint the Order.   
  
The last adult trainee was also the newest -- Xna, the son of Republic Fleet second-in- command Dzi and of the serpentine Ramothian species. Luke had known since before the Battle of Endor that Xna was ideal Jedi material, but his father had been reluctant to permit Luke to train him. The old Jedi Order had almost entirely separated Padawans from their families, and Dzi had been afraid to sever contact with his only child. But Luke's Order was less strict and encouraged contact with families, and after being assured that he was in no danger of losing his son, Dzi had allowed Xna to join.   
  
"Be careful, dude," Cody told Luke, slapping his shoulder.   
  
"I will," he promised.   
  
"Too bad Leia can't be here to see you off," Amethyst said.   
  
"Ah, she should enjoy her honeymoon with Han," Luke replied.   
  
Anakin pried a Twi'leck child's arms off from around his shin, then approached Luke. "Are you certain this is the proper choice, Luke?"   
  
"Yes, Father. I trust you with these Padawans' welfare and their training in my absence. The others will help you. I'm sure you'll do a good job."   
  
"We all will help," promised Gregory. "The entire Elite's willing to chip in."   
  
"Hey, speak for yourself," grumped Zack.   
  
"Watch it, bud," Gregory shot back. "I'm paying you twenty bucks a day to help out here."   
  
"Good luck," Anakin wished his son, embracing him.   
  
"You too. You'll need it."   
  
He chuckled. "They're children. How difficult can they be to manage?"   
  
Luke smiled. "You've never spent much time around large groups of children. I think you're in for a surprise. See you in two weeks."   
  
The Jedi boarded the passenger liner. Luke was about to take a seat next to a half-asleep businessman and two missionaries when he saw Liz waving furiously for him to join her.   
  
"Liz? Fett?" He moved to sit beside them. "What are you doing here?"   
  
"Going to Corusant to pick up our baby, of course," Liz replied. "This ship's got a layover there."   
  
Luke snapped his fingers. "That's right! Too bad I can't go with you. I'll be sure to come back and see the little one once we're done."   
  
"You're dealing with pirates," Fett noted cynically. "The child will be in the throes of puberty by the time you come back."   
  
"Will not!" Liz snapped.   
  
"I don't anticipate too much trouble with this mission," Luke replied. "The reports from Tatooine show these pirates to be cowards. They run at the first sign of resistance. The negotiations will be short."   
  
"Famous last words," Gabriel muttered.   
  
"Are you implying the mission will be a failure?" asked Luke.   
  
"Au contrair, Master!" Gabriel protested. "I am simply worried. I feel something... not right. Elusive. As if all is not what it seems."   
  
Luke nodded. "I'm glad to see you're keeping your senses open, Gabriel. Thank you for the warning. We'll proceed cautiously." 


	3. Aren't Kids Great?

Chapter III - Aren't Kids Great?  
  
It was one thing to say you could handle sixteen Jedi children for two weeks, quite another to actually attempt the feat. As it was, the Osmonds were going to have to replace the TV that one child, imitating a teras kasi move, had put his foot through, and a neighbor had called to inquire if they knew anything about her missing cat. At last Anakin brought them into the living room for a lesson, leaving the brothers to clean up the mess as best they could and find the poor feline.   
  
"Good evening," Anakin said once all the children were sitting before him. "I am Master Anakin Skywalker, your teacher for the time being."   
  
Someone in the back made an obscene noise with their lips.   
  
"And if the child who gave me such a warm welcome repeats his greeting, he shall spend tomorrow writing an essay on the Jedi Code." When all was quiet again, he resumed. "I am not familiar with you, so when I call your name please answer."   
  
From the doorway Austin observed the proceedings. It was an amazing sight to see sixteen children between the ages of three and ten sitting so peacefully, bearing no resemblance to the crazed little Jawas who had been running amok just ten minutes ago. They didn't even chatter or annoy their neighbors. Of course, he would be silent mighty quick if a guy dressed like Darth Vader was standing in front of him.   
  
"Minos Woboporo?" asked Anakin, glancing at his datapad.   
  
"Here," answered a Balosaur boy.   
  
"Ressk?"   
  
"Here," rasped a Trandoshan girl.   
  
"Ghede Starkiller?"   
  
"I'm over here!" called a human boy.   
  
"Rachel Church?"   
  
"Here!" cried Rachel, waving enthusiastically.   
  
"Ra-Sheen?"   
  
"Uh-huh," replied a Gran girl.   
  
"Niya Nyssa?"   
  
"Here," said a red-skinned Twi'leck girl.   
  
"Shazzu?"   
  
"Ey chuba," a Rodian boy grunted.   
  
"Brandon Gomez?"   
  
"Right here," a human boy piped up.   
  
"Nautala?"   
  
No answer.   
  
"Nautala?" he repeated sternly.   
  
"Huh?" the Mon Calamari boy replied, looking up.   
  
Anakin extended a hand, and the boy sheepishly handed over the Game Boy.   
  
"There will be plenty of time tomorrow for activities such as this," he told the child. "But lessons come first." He looked back at the roster. "Kendo Boka?"   
  
"Here," answered the Skakoan boy, his voice tinny within his pressurization suit.   
  
"Chentarra?"   
  
The brindle-furred Wookie boy roared.   
  
"Tomas Brekke?"   
  
"Here," the human boy squeaked, his voice barely audible.   
  
Anakin looked up. "Is something wrong, Tomas?"   
  
Tomas' answer was a whimper. "You aren't gonna hurt me for what I did, are you?"   
  
Anakin looked blankly at the child a moment. "So you're the one who did that at the beginning of the roll call."   
  
Tomas nodded, looking ready to cry.   
  
"Rest assured, Tomas, I'm not going to hurt you."   
  
"But you're Darth Vader," he whined.   
  
Anakin looked around at all the children. "I understand now. You think I'm Darth Vader, don't you? You're afraid I'm going to do something horrible to you if you don't obey me."   
  
Everyone but Rachel nodded.   
  
Austin could sympathize. Vader had been an intimidating figure -- and still was. To a young child, he would appear as scary as Jason from "Friday the 13th" would to an adult. They wouldn't understand that he was Anakin Skywalker now. He waited, wondering how Anakin was going to handle this.   
  
Anakin sat down, crossing his legs so his pose was identical to the children's. Now that he no longer towered over them, they all seemed to relax a little.   
  
"I was once Darth Vader," he acknowledged. "But I am not Vader anymore. I am Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi Knight. There is no reason to be afraid of me. If there were, your master wouldn't have left you in my care."   
  
"Why do we have two Master Skywalkers?" asked Ra-Sheen.   
  
"Because Master Luke Skywalker is my son," Anakin replied.   
  
"Really?" "No way!" "I knew that!" "That's cool!" "Do you look like him?"   
  
Austin winked at Anakin. The Jedi nodded back before turning back to the datapad.   
  
"Jess Fey'la?"   
  
"Here," the Bothan girl replied.   
  
"Isabel Thayer?"   
  
"Here!" shouted the human girl.   
  
"Shem Tio?"   
  
"Here," crooned the Kaminoan boy.   
  
"Luno Seth?"   
  
"Here," answered the Zabrak boy.   
  
"Well then," Anakin went on, setting the clipboard aside, "Master Luke informs me that you've all been working on exploring the living Force. Let us continue that line of study. Are you all ready?"   
  
There was a chorus of answers, mostly affirmative.   
  
"Relax," Anakin told them, his voice taking on a dreamy tone. "Feel the Force around you. In yourself. In the person next to you. In all that surrounds you. Every rock, every tree, every building, every animal and person, all intertwined in the vastness of the living Force."   
  
"I don't feel anything!" whined Isabel.   
  
"It may help to think about a particular person or object first," Anakin suggested. "Find the core of the Force within that, then extend your senses further."   
  
Austin felt like an outsider as he watched the children sink into meditative trances, guided by their substitute teacher. If he hadn't known otherwise, he would have simply assumed it was nap time and the teacher was making the kids sleep sitting up. How would he have known? He was so Force-blind he wouldn't have recognized a premonition in the Force if it bit him in the rear. How did this mysterious energy work anyway?   
  
"Hey, I found Mrs. Albany's cat," whispered Jason, joining Anakin at the doorway holding the disheveled animal. "He was in the dishwasher. Lucky thing it wasn't turned on." He took a glance at the kids. "Look at that; a room full of little Buddhas."   
  
"Show some respect," Austin advised. "They don't complain that you look weird doing something."   
  
Jason looked about ready to fire off a retort, then thought better of it. "So when are you and Lib going on your honeymoon?" he asked instead.   
  
"Last evening of Stellar-Con," Austin replied. "We'll be taking a cruise in the Florida Keys."   
  
"Wow, pricey. Did you take out a mortgage for this or what?"   
  
"Actually, Liberty's parents are footing the bill. It's a wedding present."   
  
"Sweet! Wish my folks were that generous. What'll Trapper do while you're gone?"   
  
"He'll go back to Chicago for the two weeks we're gone, then come back for the rest of the summer."   
  
Jason sighed. "How convenient. Your honeymoon in Florida, Han and Leia's honeymoon on Mon Calamari, Luke's jaunt to... wherever, and Liz and Boba's trip to Corusant to pick up the kid all coincide. Is the Elite falling apart or what?"   
  
Austin laughed. "Of course not. We just all have lives outside the Elite. Except Zack, of course, but he wouldn't be Zack if he weren't a full-blown stereotypical geek."   
  
"Twenty-nine, lives with his mom, no girlfriend, no job, waaaayyy late going through puberty, thinks its a mortal sin to open the package on anything that has Star Was slapped on the label... yup, Zack all the way."   
  
"But seriously, this club's held for six years. I think it's here to stay."   
  
Jason watched the children a moment. "What'd you think of Smellar-Con's opening today?"   
  
"Not much different than usual. Mr. Cage was forty-five minutes late, a guy ran through the courtyard wearing nothing but Spock ears, the speech put everyone to sleep, the Sons of the Sith got in a slugfest with the NYC Rebel Alliance chapter... all we've come to expect from our lovely Stellar-Con."   
  
"Nova-Con'll be better," Jason noted.   
  
"Dad, are they done yet?" demanded Trapper.   
  
"Not yet," Austin replied. "And don't yell or you'll disturb them."   
  
"Sorry. But I was hoping they'd be able to play soon. I'm tired of playing by myself."   
  
"After their lesson they'll be put to bed. Speaking of which, it's time we went home and threw you in bed too."   
  
"Aw, man!"   
  
The lobby of the Corusant office of the Galactic Adoption Agency was teeming with children -- children being introduced to their new parents, children sitting beside their social workers and kicking their feet anxiously, children playing with toys in the corners of the room or racing about making starship noises. Eager new parents lined up at the window to fill out the remaining paperwork for claiming their child. Others stood, waiting to be paired with a youngster.   
  
Fett shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Fatherhood was uncharted territory for him, and he felt woefully unprepared for the experience. Had his own father expressed similar anxieties while placing his clone order?   
  
"Honey," Liz whispered, "you're rocking like a hyperactive astromech."   
  
"I'm just nervous," he replied. "But don't tell anyone I said that."   
  
"The galaxy's best bounty hunter, nervous?" Liz feigned shock. "Don't worry; so am I. I never thought I'd be doing this."   
  
A little Chiss boy ran over and picked up the brightly colored ball that had rolled to Fett's feet. When he looked up at the hunter, his red eyes went wide and an expression of awe came over his deep blue features.   
  
"Wow, Boba Fett!" he gushed.   
  
Fett nodded.   
  
"You're so cool! When I grow up I'm going to be a bounty hunter just like you!"   
  
"I'll keep an eye out for you, little one."   
  
"'Bye!" He ran off.   
  
Liz chuckled. "Wouldn't it be neat if he were ours?"   
  
"It would," Fett acknowledged. "But it is not to be." He pointed as a human social worker coaxed the boy over and introduced him to his new parents.   
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Fett?"   
  
They turned to see a blue-skinned Twi'leck social worker whose name tag read Saala approaching them. A child followed her. Was this to be theirs?   
  
Fett hoped not. Stars, how he hoped not. It wasn't as if he was xenophobic. Far from it. In fact, to be xenophobic was quite dangerous. Humans who disliked aliens were apt to have their throats cut, especially on melting-pot worlds like Corusant.   
  
But he hated Hutts. Most everyone hated Hutts. And the child slithering along behind the worker, leaving a sickly trail of greenish slime, was undeniably a Hutt.   
  
Liz's hand gripped his, and he could see her working to suppress her revulsion. He, too, steeled himself. Hutt or no, this was an orphan, or at least a child whose parents couldn't provide for it. It needed a loving home, and if that loving home was to be theirs, so be it. After all, they had not specified a preferred species, so they had no right to complain.   
  
"Well, he's not what we expected," Liz noted weakly.   
  
"Oh no, I was just going to ask you to please step aside," Saala told them. "Mrs. Panna the Hutt is here to pick up her child."   
  
They backed away, and a massive, fully-grown Hutt slid forward and extended her fat arms toward the child.   
  
Fett sighed in relief. Then he reached out to steady Liz as she slipped on the Hutt's slime trail.   
  
"Can we get a janitor droid down here?! shouted Saala. In a calmer tone she addressed the Fetts. "Now, about your baby. We've already chosen one for you. I hope you don't mind."   
  
"Not at all," Liz replied. "Boy or girl?"   
  
"It's a girl, and I wanted to talk to you about her. Her parents lived on Tatooine but were killed in a pirate attack two weeks ago. Her records were destroyed, so we have no information on her, not even a name or birthdate. We estimate her to be around three months old."   
  
Fett and Liz exchanged glances. The pirates of Tatooine again? How much more carnage would be wrought before Luke and his company got to the bottom of this?   
  
"I thought I'd caution you, because often babies who have gone through trauma are easily upset. And later in life, though they might not remember the incident, they might develop a little slower, be a little more clingy, or otherwise show signs of post-traumatic disorder. Now you can always say no if you want..."   
  
"We would be glad to take her in," Fett told her.   
  
"We'll love her no matter what she's been through," Liz added.   
  
A Besalisk woman approached, carrying three babies and a fussy toddler in her eight arms. Saala took one baby and deposited her gently in Liz's arms.   
  
"She's beautiful," Liz whispered.   
  
/Indeed she is/ thought Fett. She was asleep, one tiny fist pressed to her mouth. Two white lekku, striped in blue and white and plump with baby fat, framed a scarlet-and- white face, and similarly striped horn-like growths topped her head. A Togruta child, Fett remembered, the same species as the late Jedi Master Shaak Ti.   
  
Carefully, afraid he might bruise her smooth skin, he reached out with a finger and brushed her chubby cheek.   
  
She coughed, and he drew back, but she only relaxed and went back to sleep. As if sensing his thoughts, Liz transferred the little one to his arms. He cradled her clumsily, trying to get used to the warm bundle in his arms, then held her and studied her features, counted her little fingers and toes.   
  
A feather-light pressure registered, and he saw that she had closed her tiny hand around his finger.   
  
Liz leaned toward him. "What should we name her?"   
  
Fett thought for a moment. "You choose," he told her.   
  
She stared at their baby a moment. "Naomi. After my aunt."   
  
He nodded in agreement. "Naomi Fett, I'm your father. This gorgeous woman is your mother. And we're going to spoil you rotten."   
  
"Now if you'll just complete some paperwork, you can take her home," Saala told them. Then she whirled as two Quarren children who'd been chasing each other around with toy lightsabers slid through the Hutt's trail and landed in a noisy heap. "Excuse me a moment."   
  
TK-577 didn't really believe all that bantha poodoo about Master Luke Skywalker sending one of his apprentices to manage the Executor during Piett's absence. He'd never met Anakin's son or any of his students before, but this guy just seemed a little... off? Unbalanced? Weird? And though he carried a lightsaber, he didn't dress like a Jedi.   
  
But with Piett missing, the Executor Garrison had little choice but to do as this Krad the Destroyer bloke ordered. Anyone with the surname Destroyer wasn't bound to be pleasant if you screwed up.   
  
As the stormtrooper stood at attention on the bridge, awaiting new orders, he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Krad. He seemed pretty lonely, always staring out the viewports brooding over something. Vader had done that a lot too, he remembered.   
  
He didn't know what species Krad was, but he was quite visually striking. His limbs were muscular but slender, and his broad shoulders and chest tapered down to narrow hips and waist. His clawed hands were clenched behind his back, and his square-jawed, noseless face contemplated the starscape expressionlessly. Tentacular fleshy growths replaced hair on his scalp, and he possessed piercing gray eyes that contained no pupils or irises. His frame was encased in smooth, blood-red hide, and he wore black reptile-skin armor and an Earth-type garment known as a trench coat. He looked very Vaderish in those clothes, but 577 didn't think it would be wise to point that out.   
  
"Soldier," he said at last, rolling the R slightly.   
  
"Yes, sir?"   
  
"The others inform me that you have had a good deal of contact with Darth Vader," he said, continuing to stare at the stars.   
  
"That's true," 577 admitted. "But I think you mean Anakin Skywalker. He changed his name a year ago."   
  
Krad turned slowly to regard him. He remembered what the officers on this scrapyard of a ship had said about the Jedi's eyes -- "remarkable," they'd called them. 577 thought "haunted" was a better adjective. It was as if those steel-gray eyes had seen a tragedy of tremendous scope, as if their owner bore a crushing weight in his heart. But there was a fire there too, a fury, a drive for retribution. 577 made a mental note to never piss this guy off.   
  
"So he did." Krad took two long deliberate strides, bringing himself to stand directly in front of the trooper. 577 gulped. Skywalker had been tall, but Krad was gigantic, easily as tall as a Wookie.   
  
"Your name, soldier."   
  
"TK-577," he squeaked.   
  
"Not your number. Your name."   
  
"That's it, sir."   
  
"No soldier working for me is going by a number," Krad hissed. "You will receive a name. Think of one."   
  
577 scowled. What was wrong with his number? It was a perfectly good one, even if it was a bit more of a mouthful than most others. If Krad was going to force names on all the troops, he'd soon have a mutiny on his hands.   
  
"I'll select one for you, since you can't decide." Krad scrutinized 577 carefully. "Where did you get those marks on your chestplate?"   
  
He glanced down at the scratches in his armor. He was quite proud of those battle scars and had not wanted them repaired. They were badges of honor.   
  
"Three years back Rebels jumped the Executor," he explained. "A few made it aboard and one brought his pet massif along for the fight. It knocked me over and started gnawing. I must have shot that Sith-spawned critter ten times before it keeled over, and I was still pulling pieces of its fangs out of me a week later."   
  
"Very well," Krad replied, nodding. "Fangs it is."   
  
"Is what?"   
  
"Your name. And Fangs, I want you to prepare a written report containing all the information you have regarding Skywalker."   
  
"But I have guard duty on the..."   
  
"You're excused from it. Now go."   
  
577 cursed under his breath as he stomped back to his quarters. Fangs! Of all the names in the galaxy, he got tagged Fangs! No way was he going to keep that ridiculous moniker after Piett returned.   
  
"Yo 577!" 333 shouted, jogging to catch up with his comrade. "You look bluer than an Ortolan who got told he couldn't have seconds. Did you get a bum name too?"   
  
"He called me Fangs," 577 snarled.   
  
333 laughed. "Name fits the massif who mauled you better."   
  
"Oh yeah? And I suppose you got a better tag?"   
  
333 gestured grandly to his chest. "Introducing, from the planet Kamino, the one, the onnnnllyyyyyyyyyy -- Dodger!"   
  
"At least yours is halfway decent. I'll bet mine's the dumbest on the ship."   
  
"Don't count on it. You know 836 on North End? The one with the cybernetic leg? He's now Gadget. And the new stealth troopers? All six got weird names -- Mystic, Wizard, Padawan, Magic, Legend, and Force."   
  
"Wow, winners. Guess I got off kinda light."   
  
"Hey, guess what? 409 -- ah, I guess it's Blade now -- but he's got a copy of 'Weekend at Bernie's.' Wanna come watch it with us?"   
  
"Can't. Destroyer-boy wants me to write a report on..."   
  
"So write it while you watch! C'mon! We got all kinds of Earth junk food! Let's live it up while we don't have a battle to fight!"   
  
577 shrugged. Krad hadn't given a date he wanted the report by, so what harm was there in watching a quick movie? 


	4. Cantina Ambush

Chapter IV - Cantina Ambush  
  
Anakin was amused to discover the landlady standing the middle of his kitchen when he opened his apartment door that evening, looking forward to some relaxation after his first Jedi lesson.   
  
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hendrix," he greeted. He'd asked once if she was related to the late rock singer, but the "SOB"-laced earful he'd gotten from her was not something he wished to relive.   
  
"Mr. Skywalker, you gotta do somethin' about those stormtroopers hangin' out in the stairwell!" she replied, tapping her foot imperiously. "They're givin' the other tenants the creeps!"   
  
He calmly walked past her to the refrigerator, opened it, and removed two Vanilla Cokes. He was quite fond of Mrs. Hendrix, he supposed. She was an African-American single mother in her late 30s, with a big-boned but well-shaped body and quite handsome features. Steve had often remarked that she looked like Queen Latifah, but Anakin had never seen the actress and couldn't compare. Mrs. Hendrix was quite open and blunt when she spoke, never taking guff from her tenants. He liked that spunk.   
  
"I've put up with a lot from you," she went on, slipping into one of her common spiels. "I can handle the foamin'-at-the-mouth geeks trompin' in here for autographs. I can handle your sackloads of fan mail. I can handle that son of yours and that rat-pack of geeks that follow you 'round. I can even handle the death threats every other week. But I'm not puttin' up your troops! We have a Constitutional Amendment against that, y'know!"   
  
"I apologize, ma'am," he told her, unruffled. He handed her a soda. "But it was not my decision to bring them here."   
  
"Honey, I don't care if you brought 'em here or the Man in the Moon did! At least put 'em outside where they won't get in the way!"   
  
"I'll be sure to tell them." He opened his air intake vent and took a long draught. When he was finished he added "I can understand how my bodyguards frustrate you, but they will not be here long if I have anything to say about it. I don't particularly want them here myself."   
  
She smiled, her mood lightening a bit. "Your son's gettin' overprotective of you again, huh?"   
  
Anakin finished his drink and tossed the can in the trash. "At this rate, I'm going to have my own personal squadron of stealth troopers escorting my wheelchair around the nursing home."   
  
She laughed. "Ah, don't be too insulted by it, honey. Least you know he cares about you."   
  
He gave a gentle chuckle. "I've never given the boy reason to care about me, and yet he does. He may have my strength in the Force and independent streak, but he has his mother's heart."   
  
She popped the tab on her drink and took a swig. "When's he gettin' back from wherever he is?"   
  
"Two weeks, if all goes well. After that bombing at my daughter's wedding it was decided that he should stay away from Earth awhile. That might confuse his attacker and even draw them out."   
  
"If he's the one bein' shot at, why do you have the bodyguards?"   
  
"I must admit, that gap in logic astounds me, too."   
  
"How'd you enjoy playing 'Daddy Daycare?'"   
  
He gave an exaggerated groan and lowered himself into a chair, pretending to be decrepit. "They have far too much energy. I was finally able to get them to calm down by starting lessons, only to discover they're terrified of my mask. Patrick is enjoying all this, but Jason is about ready to borrow a tranquilizer gun from the Denver Zoo."   
  
She laughed.   
  
"I hope I convinced them that I wouldn't harm them," he went on. He cupped his chin in one hand. "It's this armor. It still labels me as Darth Vader. It will be a happy day when I am able to be rid of it once and for all."   
  
"May the Force grant you patience, honey, 'cause you want it right now!" Mrs. Hendrix announced.   
  
He burst into laughter.   
  
"Aw, relax. The ban can't last forever. And a donor's bound to pop up sooner or later." She sat down next to him. "B'sides, once your sentence's up you're home free."   
  
"Four years..." he mumbled, wishing he could sigh. Again he cursed the blasted mask.   
  
Mrs. Hendrix picked up a garbage sack and plopped it on the table before him. "Your weekly load of fan mail. Want to borrow a shredder?"   
  
"Nah. I like to read them." He opened the first one and admired the artwork, done by a six-year-old boy from Iowa. "Nice picture."   
  
"What's it supposed to be?" she asked.   
  
"Looks like my old TIE fighter. With me at the controls. This is going up on my refrigerator!" He stood to post it.   
  
"One from New Mexico," she announced, ripping open another envelope. "'Dear Mr. Skywalker, I don't understand why you went with such a wimpy name as Anakin. I mean, come on, Ani? Sounds like the little red-head brat from Broadway. Darth Vader sounded at least halfway cool. Why not switch to Mordak or Slasher or something tough-sounding? Loved the movies, by the way. Signed, Tony Pollock.'"   
  
Anakin gave her an incredulous look. "Mordak?"   
  
"Do all these letters get written by weirdos?"   
  
"Not all, but enough to make things interesting. Open the next one."   
  
"As lovely as I remember it," Luke mused as he and his students trekked down Mos Eisley's main street.   
  
"The wretched hive of scum and villainy, eh?" Gabriel quipped.   
  
Tatooine's double suns had leeched color from every surface, so thanks to the light and dust most everything that had been outside for long was pretty much the same shade of gray-tan. There was, however, a vast variety of color and life in the garb of off-worlders, the faces of the eclectic mix of aliens that lived here, and the wares set up in a dozen outdoor shops. The buildings, vehicles, and even the natives seemed weathered and battered, bearing the scars from the battle to scratch out a living on this harsh world.   
  
The center street was more crowded than ever, for a veritable exodus of refugees was streaming into town. Farmers, prospectors, naturalists, smugglers, even Jawas arrived on foot, in speeders, or atop dewbacks, rontos, eopies, and banthas. Many had fled with whatever they could throw together in five minutes; some only had the clothes on their backs. A few transported the gravely wounded.   
  
"Looks bad, Master," Chyna said.   
  
"I know," Luke replied.   
  
Gabriel looked around gravely. "My grandpapa, he used to tell of living in Paris during World War II," he said. "When the Nazis were marching through France, people from all over fled to the city before it fell to the Germans. It was like this."   
  
Korie roared. /What can we do to help them, Master?/ she sent through the Force.   
  
"I'm not sure."   
  
"You there!"   
  
A Weequay strode briskly toward their group. Luke recognized him as the newly elected governor of Tatooine and bowed. "Hello, Governor Nitch."   
  
"Master Jedi, I'm glad you've come," Nitch said gladly, shaking Luke's hand. "Please, come inside where it's cool." He ushered Luke and his students toward a building that Luke remembered well -- the cantina where he'd first met Han Solo and Chewbacca.   
  
"I don't care to tangle with your local goonsssss my firssssst day here," Xna pointed out.   
  
"Don't worry, this is a reputable establishment now," Nitch assured them. "New owner, new laws. We're working to civilize Tatooine."   
  
"Too bad," Hekku rasped with a chirping chuckle. "A civilized Tatooine would lose much of its charm."   
  
Luke didn't sense much change in the cantina's atmosphere. It was still a smoky, dim building with a hodgepodge of creatures within it. Most of said creatures still looked as questionable as ever, but then, owners usually had little control over their cliente. The place was cleaner, though, with a fresh coat of paint and upgraded systems and appliances. Fig'rin Dan and his band were still present, though the old bartender wasn't. In his place was a berobed, tan-skinned man with jet-black hair and an attitude that screamed "Earth man," even though the only outward sign of it was a gold crucifix hanging over his chest.   
  
"Rounds for everyone here," Nitch told the bartender, gesturing to his companions.   
  
"Will that be your usual, senor?" asked the barkeep, looking up. His dark eyes went wide when he saw the Jedi.   
  
"Ay carumba! Senor Skywalker!" He reached across the counter to shake Luke's hand. "I'm Ricardo. I own this place. Bought it off the last guy. Pleased to meet you."   
  
"Hello, Ricardo," Luke greeted. "With this influx of people, business must be booming."   
  
Ricardo shook his head. "No, senor. Most of the poor souls out there haven't a peso on them. I've been donating food and drinks as often as I can, but I have a business to run." He shrugged apologetically.   
  
"Your help has been immensely appreciated, Ricardo," Nitch told him. "We've been placing the refugees in camps just outside the city and placing guards from the Bestine Republic Army Base. Most of the food and other provisions we've been giving them has come from privately owned businesses in Tatooine's major towns. It might appear to be a lawless, uncivilized planet, but in a crisis we stick together."   
  
"What do you know about the pirates that might be of use to us, Governor?" asked Hekku, swirling his drink around in its glass.   
  
"Not much," Nitch replied. "They don't seem to have a definite purpose for their actions. As far as we can tell, they're just picking random targets to slap around. Some towns and settlements, like Anchorhead, have only suffered an occasional burglary. Others, like the geologist encampment at Beggar's Canyon, have been destroyed entirely. And from survivor reports, we've learned that they come in a variety of species and appear to be from a variety of worlds. The only thing they have in common is that they wear this symbol somewhere on their clothing, usually on the shoulder or arm." He produced a scrap of bright green flightsuit cloth and stretched it so the design was visible.   
  
Luke studied the mark -- a blood-red silhouette of a winged dragon with a gold starburst on its breast. It wasn't the mark of any pirating guild he was familiar with. In fact, it looked almost like a royal seal or coat of arms, but he couldn't quite place it.   
  
"Any of you make anything of this?" he asked.   
  
Korie barked a few words. The translator on her shoulder spoke in a high feminine voice that seemed unnatural coming from the Wookie's direction: "It's the crest of the Imperial Family of the Kruvex system, Master Skywalker."   
  
Luke frowned, not liking the sound of this. "You're sure?"   
  
"I second her," Chyna replied. "I saw it in the files of the Jedi Archives back at the Academy."   
  
"Kruvex?" Nitch repeated. "I've never heard of it."   
  
"It was a sovereign system of the Old Republic," Luke told him. "Its natives, the Kruvexians, were a highly telepathic species, and many of them became Jedi. When the Empire came into power, it almost entirely wiped out the Kruvexian species due to their Force sensitivity. Now only a few hundred are left. Their homeworld is in shambles, but they're doing their best to reclaim and rebuild it."   
  
Xna curled his tail tip under his chin in thought. "Ssssso why would one be attacking Tatooine? Even a vengeful one? Tatooine wasssss never exactly an Imperial ssssstronghold, after all. Wouldn't it make more sssssense for him or her to go after the Imperial Remnant?"   
  
Luke agreed that it didn't make sense -- not just that Kruvex was behind the assault on Tatooine, but that they were attacking another planet at all. Kruvexians weren't exactly a pacifist species -- their volcanic homeworld had made them a tough race, and before the Military Creation Act they had maintained the largest non-mechanical army in the Republic. But conquest and vengeance hadn't been their way. Even the Kruvexian survivors he'd interviewed didn't seem bitter toward the Empire and were much more interested in repairing Kruvex than in laying claim to another, less damaged world.   
  
"There are many questions to be answered," Luke said at last. "And I assure you that we will try to find answers. We'll work on contacting the pirate leader. Then we'll find their motivation and negotiate a truce, if possible. I'd like to leave fighting as a last resort, but we'll do that, if necessary, to defend Tatooine and put an end to the siege."   
  
Ricardo jerked his head toward the back. "I got rooms for rent in the back. You and your amigos can stay for free, Master Skywalker."   
  
Luke laughed. "Just credit the Republic for the charge. No use shorting anybody right now."   
  
A loud crash awoke Hekku in the infant hours of the morning, and he kicked off his covers and grabbed his lightsaber. That sound had come from the inside of the cantina! He extended his awareness to encompass the entire establishment. Aside from the Jedi and Ricardo, who seemed to be in distress, he sensed four others. Intruders, he realized, with quite hostile intentions.   
  
They were about to get their first glimpse of those behind Tatooine's problems.   
  
He stepped into the hall, where Korie already waited, her deactivated lightsaber in her claws. Her silvery fur seemed to glow in the dim light of the hall.   
  
"You hear them too?" whispered Hekku.   
  
/Smell them/ Korie replied mentally, baring her fangs. /They reek of trouble. We'd better wake the others./   
  
"Hey, girlfriend, we can handle this on our own," Hekku pointed out, grinning adventurously. "We've handled plenty of foes in larger groups than this."   
  
/In the training room, yes/ she replied sternly. /But these aren't holograms or droids, Hekku. These are real. And they'll have no qualms about killing us./   
  
Gabriel exited his room, barefoot and wearing only a white nightshirt. "Guests?" he asked, flicking out his weapon.   
  
"Good, we have another partner," Hekku noted. "Let's go, you two."   
  
"Not yet," Gabriel replied. "Call Master Skywalker, Korie."   
  
"You two are no fun," snorted Hekku as Korie sent a ripple of alarm along the Force. Seconds later the others emerged, Xna bleary-eyed but clutching his lightsaber in his tail, Chyna in a cotton shift and a hastily pulled-on jacket, and Luke quickly fastening the sash on a robe.   
  
"Nice of you to invite us instead of attempting to neutralize the threat yourselves," Luke noted. It was a compliment of sorts, thanking the students for not being impulsive or rash. Hekku looked away, knowing his attitude had gotten him in trouble before.   
  
There was muffled shouting inside the cantina, then a solid thump as a blow was dealt.   
  
"Please, senor, just take the money and leave!" shouted Ricardo.   
  
"Maybe we wanna have a little fun 'fore we go," came a snarl.   
  
At Luke's signal the six of them charged into the cantina, lightsabers hissing to life. Luke and Korie wielded green blades, while Chyna, Gabriel, and Xna carried blue weapons. Hekku's blade shimmered a queer red-gold color, having been crafted with a massif-eye stone from his native Geonosis.   
  
In the multicolored light illuminating the room they could see Ricardo's attackers. A ragged, slimy-looking human and a bulky Trandoshan wearing a cinnamon-brown Wookie pelt over his shoulders were holding the bruised bartender's arms while a goateed, bare-chested Balosaur stood before him, arm drawn back for another blow. Standing nearby, watching the proceedings, was a being in copper-and-black Mandalorian armor, holding a sawed-off blaster rifle with which to finish off Ricardo when the others were done with him. All of them wore the Kruvexian crest on their shoulders, except the Balosaur, who had the symbol tattooed to his chest.   
  
"Well, whaddaya know?" sneered the human. "Jedi just joined the party."   
  
The Trandoshan snarled. "They should know not to force themselves into our affairs."   
  
The Balosaur gave an obnoxious laugh. "Hey everyone, the lizard made a funny!"   
  
Luke stepped forward. "You will surrender to us peacefully and leave this gentleman be, or we will subdue you by any means necessary."   
  
The human glared contemptuously at Luke, then turned toward the Mandalorian. "Boss, whatcha think?"   
  
The warrior was silent a moment, then put out an arm and gave a thumbs-down gesture.   
  
"Sorry, no go," he told the Jedi. "We fight." He threw Ricardo into the Trandoshan's arms and reached for a blaster carbine at his belt.   
  
Luke used his lightsaber to deflect the ensuing blaster shots while Gabriel gestures sharply to a long coil of flexible tubing being used to distill Kessel rock-whiskey. The tubing flew across the room, spraying liquid as it went, before wrapping itself securely around their attacker from shoulders to ankles. He tried to wriggle loose but only succeeded in toppling himself like a felled tree.   
  
The Mandalorian brought the rifle to bear, aiming for Hekku. He sprang into the air, beating his wings for lift, to avoid the warrior's fire. Tatooine was a heavier-gravity planet than Geonosis, making true flight impossible for him, but he managed a gliding ark that brought his feet down on his foe's chest. The impact knocked the Mandalorian to the floor, and Hekku whirled his lightsaber behind him to slice the pirate's gun apart. Before his foe could react, Hekku drove the butt of his saber into the back of the mercenary's neck to bring on unconsciousness.   
  
Meanwhile, Chyna and Korie took on the Trandoshan.   
  
"A Wookie," the reptile snarled in pleasure. "Her pelt will make a fine addition to my collection." He threw the bartender aside and pulled a blaster on her, only to crumple to the ground as she blasted his mind with the Force. Being Force-blind, the pirate couldn't shield the attack and so was incapacitated, at least temporarily.   
  
The Balosaur, meanwhile, leered at Chyna, holding a vibroblade. She kicked him where she figured she'd get the best results, and while he was doubled over in pain Xna flicked his body like a coachwhip to knock him off his feet.   
  
Luke extinguished his lightsaber and motioned for his students to follow suit. "Well done all. Now secure them. We'll send them back to Corusant for trial. Except that one." He pointed at the Mandalorian. "We'll retain him for questioning."   
  
"Gracias, gracias, gracias," babbled Ricardo, embracing Luke. "You saved my life! Whatever can I do to repay you?"   
  
"For starters," replied Luke, "you can add the cost of all damages done to your establishment to our tab. Add a healthy tip for your own troubles, any medical bills you may have from this incident, and your excellent service to us."   
  
He nodded, then went behind the counter to inspect the damage.   
  
Luke knelt beside the Mandalorian and placed his hand atop the T-slit helmet. The pirate groaned and awoke.   
  
"Jedi," their captive hissed in a voice that would have been quite dulcet had it not been hard with anger. "Why did it have to be Jedi?"   
  
"Sacre bluer, a woman!" Gabriel exclaimed.   
  
"Of course I'm a woman!" she snarled. "Do you think only men can be suitable warriors?"   
  
"We have questions," Luke said, cutting off her tirade. "And we'd like answers."   
  
She raised her chin haughtily. "Kill me now. The Mandalorian order -- what's left of it, anyway -- is bound by honor."   
  
"Tell us who you are," Luke requested, waving his hand.   
  
Her resolve dimmed a little, but her voice was as venomous as ever. "I'm a Mandalorian, one of the few left after the Jedi slaughtered us decades ago. Fair pay when YOUR kind got butchered by the Empire. Rest assured we shed no tears over them."   
  
"What do the Mandalorians have to gain from attacking Tatooine?"   
  
"We have nothing against this planet, wretched though it is," she snarled. "We're mercenaries, not idealists. We're being well-paid for our efforts here."   
  
"And all of you have allied yourselves to the pirates' cause?"   
  
"Not all. That damned Boba Fett's still off with that blasted wench of a wife of his, not that he ever gave his father's old comrades so much as a how-do-you-do. What a brat!"   
  
Gabriel snorted in laughter. Chyna elbowed him in the ribs.   
  
"What's your employers motivation?" Luke pressed.   
  
She tried to resist the question but failed. "All I know is that Darth Vader murdered his... his..." Her breath petered out with a high wheeze, and in a panic she clutched her throat.   
  
/She's choking!/ Korie reached for her helmet.   
  
It was too late. With a gruesome snap the unknown entity that had attacked her finished its job. The Madalorian's corpse collapsed against Luke.   
  
"The Force," muttered Luke, feeling for a pulse. "I knew it."   
  
"At leasssst we know who'ssss behind thissssss," Xna pointed out. "A male Jedi who ssssurvived the Purge and wantssss vengeanccccce for a loved one."   
  
"Gabriel," Luke ordered, "get on a comm and call the police to take the pirates and the coroner to get this woman's body. The rest of you stand watch and look for clues. I need to contact my father." 


	5. Revenge of the Jedi

Chapter V - Revenge of the Jedi  
  
Today's lesson was on levitation. To reduce the risk of injury or something being broken the Osmonds had cleared anything not nailed down out of the living room and provided pillows and cushions as test items. Each child had two pillows, and their goal was to stack one atop the other using only the Force. A simple theory, but apparently the kids were still having trouble grasping the concept -- either that or they had finally realized Anakin was harmless and were pushing the boundaries as far as they could. Some were stealing their neighbor's pillows and causing quarrels; others thought it great fun to raise their cushions and drop them on other students' heads. Occasionally a Padawan would get carried away and his pillow would smack into the ceiling. The Skakoan, Kendo, seemed to be having difficulty managing the exercise, for he was constantly levitating other things by accident -- other students' pillows, other students, and, on one hilarious occasion, a resigned Master Skywalker.   
  
"Sorry, Master Skywalker," he said plaintively as Anakin got back to his feet after being dropped on his armored derriere.   
  
"That's okay, Kendo," Anakin told him. "Relax and try again. You'll get it eventually."   
  
Jason and Patrick, watching from the doorway, weren't so sure.   
  
"I guess we should be glad this hasn't escalated into a pillow fight," Jason whispered.   
  
"Yet," Patrick added ominously.   
  
The holocomm beeped to the tune of "Imperial March." Jason went to answer it.   
  
"Osmond residence, Jason speaking."   
  
Luke's image blipped into view. "Hi, Jason. I can't reach my father at home or work. Is he at your house?"   
  
"Just a minute." He turned back to the living room. "Anakin, it's Luke!"   
  
"Class is dismissed," Anakin told the Padawans just as a pillow got snagged on one of Luno's horns and ripped open, resulting in an explosion of white as feathers filled the air. The children shrieked in glee and began running through the blizzard.   
  
"Oh, for the love of -- you kids go play outside!" Jason snapped, herding the pack outside. "I'll call Steve and Emily over to keep you entertained. Yo Pat, where's the vacuum cleaner?"   
  
"You broke it last week, remember?" Patrick reminded him.   
  
Jason swore and stomped around the living room, picking up pillows and spitting out goose down.   
  
Need help so soon, son?" asked Anakin with a chuckle, turning a dial to clarify Luke's image.   
  
"Actually, I do," Luke replied. "I have a rather sensitive question to ask."   
  
"Fire away. I'm a man, I can handle it."   
  
Luke hesitated. "Did you, during the Purges, ever kill a Kruvexian Jedi?"   
  
Anakin considered. Sensitive question indeed. He didn't dare contemplate his time as a Sith for too long at a time for fear he'd go mad with guilt. But he forced himself to think on the question. It could provide Luke with valuable information.   
  
"When Palpatine gained emergency powers over the Galactic Senate, there were fifteen Kruvexian Jedi Masters, Knights, and Padawans in the Order," he replied. "Four of them died of natural causes. Three were killed in the Clone Wars. Stealth troopers killed five. Three were captured during one of the Empire's attacks on Kruvex, and of those three the Emperor murdered one personally, and another wounded me and escaped, only to commit suicide hours later. The last... I killed."   
  
Luke's expression indicated he regretted the question, but he kept his voice businesslike. "Do you remember the name?"   
  
"Zorn. Zorn the Swift. Metallic copper skin and blue eyes. Quite the athlete, I remember, and as indicated by her last name a fast runner. Kruvexian surnames are not indications of bloodline but testaments of personal talents and attributes." He cocked his head. "She was the second oldest child of Kruvexian Emperor Pothar the Wild and given up to the order as a three-year-old. When her father and elder brother died she was given the option of ruling Kruvex but instead abdicated to remain a Jedi."   
  
"So she was royalty," Luke mused. "Did she take a Padawan?"   
  
"Yes, a human, but he died in the Wars."   
  
"Anything else?"   
  
"Jedi who were members of an endangered species were allowed to marry, and after the first Imperial attack on Kruvex Zorn qualified. She took a soldier in the Kruvexian Army as a husband and had a child by him, a boy if my memory serves me. It is not known if she trained him."   
  
"What happened to him?"   
  
"No one knows. He is presumed dead."   
  
Luke became very thoughtful. "I believe we've found the son of Zorn the Swift."   
  
"You think he's behind the siege?"   
  
"We've used the information we've accumulated so far to put together a profile of the pirate leader. All the pirates wear the Royal Crest of Kruvex, so we assume their leader's Kruvexian. A Mandalorian warrior we captured admitted their order was working for him and that he was male and you killed someone close to him. She was killed via the Force before we could probe her further, so her employer has had some degree of Force training."   
  
"Put it together, you have Zorn's get," Anakin noted. "And he's out to avenge his mother's death. That still doesn't explain why he picked that hunk of nothing to harry."   
  
Luke smiled mischievously. "Now are you glad you have a guard?"   
  
He snorted in reply. "So far all they've done is annoy my landlady."   
  
"All the same, please be careful. This is a dangerous situation now that we know a Force- user's involved."   
  
Anakin nodded. "I'll be careful, but only if you promise the same."   
  
Luke laughed. "I'll try. I need to go now. May the Force be with you."   
  
"Goodbye, Luke." He cut the transmission.   
  
Patrick arched an eyebrow. "What's a Kruvexian?"   
  
"A telepathic alien," he explained. "Generally between two and three meters tall, with red or brown hide and a warrior-type disposition. Take Thrax off of 'Osmosis Jones,' give him better teeth and glowing eyes, and you have the general idea."   
  
Patrick whistled. "Ugly."   
  
"They probably think the same of us, so don't say that to their face. Though I doubt you'll ever run into one. Only about three hundred survived the Purges, and almost all of them live on Kruvex."   
  
Jason stamped into the kitchen, covered in feathers and brandishing a pillow like a weapon.   
  
"No reward is worth this!" he snapped, throwing the cushion on the kitchen counter. "I dunno how Luke does it, but I'm about ready call it quits! Those brats are wrecking the place like chimpanzees on crack!"   
  
"Jason, it's for a good cause..." began Patrick.   
  
"I get up this morning to go to the bathroom and they've filled the toilet with tadpoles," Jason snarled, ignoring his brother. "My computer mouse has teeth marks in it from that Trandoshan kid. Someone threw up on my Boba Fett armor and it's gonna take weeks to get the smell out. I've been hit and kicked and bit and slobbered on and Jedi mind tricked. And now Mrs. Albany's flower bed looks like banthas stampeded through it, and guess who's gonna have to pay damages?!"   
  
"Luke will reimburse all expenses," Anakin assured him.   
  
"I can't take it anymore!" Jason screamed. "Steve and Emily are outside with the little trolls, and thank the Force 'cause I'm not going out there!"   
  
"Look, Jason, I know you're frustrated..." began Anakin.   
  
Jason cranked up the radio. "It's my favorite song," he growled.   
  
"Don't drown me out..."   
  
"Let him alone, Anakin," Patrick advised.   
  
"But he hates Air Supply!"   
  
"Just let him work it off. He'll cool off soon. He always does."   
  
Boba Fett wanted many things. He wanted the media to bug off and leave him alone. He wanted the crazy obsessed Fett worshippers to bug off and leave him alone. But most of all, he wanted to go get a hamburger in peace.   
  
Good luck trying that in Star City between conventions when you're a Star Wars character.   
  
"It's Boba Fett!" a table-full of 501st members announced the minute he, Liz, and Naomi entered Jack in the Box.   
  
"Ignore them," Liz advised.   
  
"Easier said than done," Fett hissed as three of them mobbed him, demanding autographs.   
  
"Sign my Topps card!"   
  
"Sign my napkin!"   
  
"Oops, I don't have any paper. Uh, sign my shirt!"   
  
"Back off!" Liz shouted. "Can't we have some privacy!"   
  
Naomi decided to chase the geeks off by screaming quite loudly. Seeing that they'd disturbed her, they immediately backed off.   
  
"Stang," Fett growled, trying to calm her.   
  
"No, it wasn't them," Liz told him.   
  
"Then why is she screaming?"   
  
"Inhale deeply."   
  
He did so. "I... see. Who's turn?"   
  
"Yours."   
  
He took the diaper bag from her and disappeared into the bathroom.   
  
Liz looked around for a place to sit, but the only open table was in the back, with Brigham nursing a milkshake and talking on a cell phone nearby. He didn't seem to notice as she slipped in across from him.   
  
"Mom, let's not go through this again," he moaned. "I know I've been back from my mission for ten years now. I can count. But give me a little time, okay? The right girl just doesn't fall off a tree, y'know." He took another sip of shake. "So what if Hyrum got married six months back from England? I'm not Hyrum, am I?"   
  
Liz smiled as she listened. Brigham's mom was one of the most overbearing women she'd ever met.   
  
"Girls like returned missionaries? Hmm. News to me. Maybe being a geek counteracts that. What? WHAT?! Don't tell me you told HER to call me! Believe me, after that prom fiasco? She won't approach me without a biohazard suit on!"   
  
"Hi, Brigham."   
  
"Look, Mom, I'll call you back later, okay? No, no, I'll call you." He hung up. "Aaarrgghh! Moms!"   
  
"You're talking to one."   
  
"I'm sure you'll be a great mom, Liz." He sighed. "Beautiful baby, by the way. Wish I had one."   
  
"Aw, you'll find a girl someday." She watched as Fett left the bathroom and tried to negotiate his way past a pack of rabid geeks. "Did you know Naomi came from the same planet Luke's on right now, and her birth parents were killed by the pirates he was sent to stop?"   
  
"No, I didn't. That's really sad." Then he realized that probably wasn't the proper thing to say. "Well, sad for her parents, but good for you, so you have your own child... uh, change of subject! What planet's Luke on, anyway?"   
  
"Sorry, we're sworn to secrecy."   
  
"Can't you even give me a hint?"   
  
"It's not Earth."   
  
"Well, I knew that. Who'd want to attack this rock?"   
  
It would be a simple matter, Krad mused, to simply strafe Colorado with the Executor's turbolasers to ensure Vader's demise. He gave a slight smile of pleasure at the thought. The Dark Lord would never know what hit him. But no, such an action would also leave thousands more dead. Not that he had much sympathy toward any world that would harbor such a base being. He just found it inconvenient to leave too many bodies.   
  
He stared at Earth's Eurasian continent from the viewport, silent, contemplative. The stormtroopers on the Executor claimed Vader had turned from his deadly ways, had rejoined the light. Krad wasn't convinced. He couldn't accept that one who had fallen so low, committed so many crimes, shed so much innocent blood, could be redeemed so easily and even become a Jedi Knight.   
  
And he could never forgive him for murdering his mother.   
  
A loud cackle indicated a few of the clone soldiers were amusing themselves with some idiotic joke. He smirked. How appropriate that his base of operations was none other than Vader's Stardestroyer, and that Vader would meet his undoing aboard this very vessel if all went well. It was only fitting that the ship and those sworn to protect the Sith Lord would be his doom, just as the Empire, which had promised Kruvex protection, had instead offered only slaughter and cruelty.   
  
He tugged at the sleeve of his armor, covering the numbers cauterized there that would never entirely fade away. He had been a scant four years old that terrible day, when the Empire had launched the second in its long series of attacks and massacres on Kruvex. By then the Jedi Order had been in shreds, its members retreating to various worlds for safety. Several Kruvexian Jedi had returned to their homeworld to assist what was left of its government and military in defending it.   
  
He never knew his father -- he had died shortly before Krad's birth. But Zorn had been a loving mother, gently correcting him when he erred, comforting him when something frightened him. She had even shown him the ways of the Force, teaching him to perform simple tasks such as summoning animals or lifting small objects.   
  
Scholars said that Kruvex had possessed a savage beauty in its prime, with architectural wonders rivaling those of more pleasant worlds like Alderaan and Naboo. Krad had never seen that beauty -- the Kruvex he remembered lay in ruins from the Emperor's first, devastating attack. The people had lived in caravans on the stony lava fields, avoiding the crumbling cities. Yet they still had retained hope that, one day, they would have a chance to rebuild their world.   
  
That chance never came. In its second attack the Empire had rounded up the Kruvexian people, assigned them numbers, and packed them into prison camps. Krad and Zorn had ended up in a specially designated camp for anyone of standing in Kruvex's society -- the royal family, soldiers, military officers, prominent citizens, artists, and the three remaining Kruvexian Jedi. None of the camps had been hospitable in the least, but Krad and Zorn's was by far the most brutal, with its prisoners subjected to frequent torture at the hands of stormtroopers.   
  
Krad shut his hazy gray eyes and trembled, remembering the searing of force-whips, the impact of fists, the agony of scanner grids and other interrogation equipment. They had beaten him until he couldn't scream anymore, then beaten him more. The force-whips had flayed his back down to the flesh, and he would always bear the deep, ragged scars. How he had survived he didn't know, for he learned later that the same Imperials who had abused him had beaten one of Kruvex's top athletes to death.   
  
At last the Empire had forced the remaining populace to look on as Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader publicly executed the remaining prisoners, one by one. Zorn, still bleeding from a deep gash across her face, had shielded Krad's eyes every time a death took place. He thanked her memory, but the screams were still fresh in his mind.   
  
When it came Zorn's turn to face the Sith, she had gone bravely, without the slightest hint of fear. Palpatine, still gloating from having killed one of the Jedi, had allowed Vader to execute her. But before he could deal the blow, Zorn had produced her lightsaber seemingly from nowhere and attacked the black-armored Sith. Taken quite by surprise, Vader sustained a deep gash in his chest before he could gather his wits enough to fight back.   
  
Krad gripped the hilt of his mother's saber, the smooth horn handle a comforting touch. Yes, she had fought well that day. All Jedi were accomplished warriors, Zorn among the best. But she had been no match for two Sith. A blast of the Emperor's Force lightning had driven her to her knees, and Vader's scarlet blade had found her heart.   
  
The rest of that day was a blur. Later he learned the crowd, seeing the Sith were by no means omnipotent, had rioted, leading to a messy battle that had left thousands of Kruvexians and stormtroopers dead, the last Jedi dead by his own hand, and Vader so seriously wounded that it was several weeks before he could return to his duties. Somehow in the commotion a former pilot in the Kruvex Armada had found him and whisked him off the planet. And somehow he had ended up in possession of Zorn's horn- handled, silver-bladed lightsaber.   
  
He stared at Earth again, clutching the saber until his knuckles went white and he could feel the blood throbbing in his fingers. His thoughts pounded in time with his pulse, filling him with grief and rage. The same thoughts that had rampaged through him that fateful day, that had crushed a four-year-old boy under their weight, that had driven him to exert control over his Force abilities and exact revenge.   
  
/You hurt me, Vader/ he hissed. /You hurt me. You killed my mother. You destroyed my planet. You hurt me./   
  
The Force screamed through him, flowing easily at his command. It seemed to obey him more readily at times like this, when his pain and anger were at this white-hot crescendo.   
  
/You hurt me. You have blood on your hands. The blood of my mother, my people, the Jedi, thousands of souls. Blood that can never be washed away./   
  
/You hurt me, Vader. For that, you will pay with your heart's blood./   
  
But first he had to get Luke Skywalker out of the way. The Jedi was fiercely protective of his father and purposefully ignorant of the man's crimes. And though Krad detested stooping to Vader's level, it was necessary in this case.   
  
He turned and motioned to Fangs, and the stormtrooper muttered a quick "Excuse me" to his comrades and hurried toward him.   
  
It was time to accelerate his plan. 


	6. Desert Allies

Chapter VI - Desert Allies  
  
The Jedi were in the middle of a quick breakfast at the Black Bantha Diner when a wild- eyed Nikto burst in, waving his arms and babbling incoherently.   
  
"What's he saying?" asked Chyna through a mouthful of hawk-bat egg.   
  
/I could only make out something about Sandpeople/ Korie replied.   
  
Luke dropped his spoon and stood, grabbing the Nikto by the shoulders. "Slow, down, sir, and repeat what you said."   
  
"Sandpeople..." gasped the Nikto. "At least a hundred... coming down the main street..."   
  
Tusken Raiders in Mos Eisley! As if the city didn't have enough problems! The desert nomads were normally reclusive and wary of outsiders, and though they sometimes gathered together to attack small settlements, a group of them entering a city was unheard of. Perhaps, with may of the smaller towns destroyed or evacuated, they were setting their sights on larger prey.   
  
The six Jedi left the Black Bantha and ran down the street, having to dodge frightened pedestrians. Several townspeople joined them, carrying blasters, vibrostaffs, and other hastily snatched weapons.   
  
A solid wall of Sandpeople marched steadfastly down the road, afoot or on banthas. It definitely wasn't a raiding party, for among the men in their wrappings that resembled crude faces were females, whose coverings resembled the veils worn by Muslim women on Earth. Some carried children in their arms or on their backs; others bore wounds, fresh and old, from some sort of struggle.   
  
"Hold your fire!" ordered Luke just in time to stop an overeager Ishi Tib from pulling the trigger on his weapon.   
  
"But Master Skywalker, they're Tuskens," Hekku pointed out.   
  
"Do not make assumptions, Hekku," Luke warned. "Just because they're here doesn't automatically mean they want to attack..."   
  
An Ithorian woman screamed as a Tusken stepped forward, clutching his gaderffi tightly in one hand. His other arm hung in a sling and bore a crude splint, and the swathing covering the left side of his face were stained red. He locked eyes with Luke, barked something, and carefully laid the gaderffi in the dust some three meters from Luke's feet.   
  
Luke looked at the gaffi stick, then back at the Tusken. He wasn't sure what this gesture meant. Was it friendly or hostile? The only treatment he had ever gotten from Sandpeople had been the latter. Admittedly, he'd only been attacked when he strayed too far from the farm and into their territory. But this Tusken clearly expected something of him, and he didn't know what to do.   
  
"Does anyone here know anything about Sandpeople?" he asked.   
  
"Only that a pack of 'em killed my son and his girlfriend for no reason other than they stayed out after dark!" bellowed a human moisture farmer.   
  
"They're vicious, mindless monsters!" spat the Ishi Tib.   
  
Korie gave a negative grunt. "Don't jump to conclusions," her translator chimed. "You don't know their ways, so you have no right to condemn them."   
  
"That's it!" Gabriel declared. "Korie's translator! It is programmed with several hundred languages. Maybe Tusken is in there somewhere."   
  
"Good idea," Luke replied.   
  
Korie removed the device and handed it to Gabriel.   
  
"We are Jedi Knights," he said into the translator. "We wish to know what the meaning of what you just did is." He flipped through the available languages until "Tusken" appeared on the display, then played the message again, this time in the guttural, raucous tongue of the Sandpeople.   
  
The effect was quite unanticipated. After a moment of stunned silence, one Tusken began laughing so hard he nearly fell off his bantha. This set another one laughing so hard he DID fall off his bantha. The rest of the party burst into honking laughter. The one who had dropped his gaderffi doubled over and slapped his thigh with his good hand in amusement, roaring with mirth.   
  
"Starman's machine not work so well, eh?" he chuckled.   
  
Gabriel blinked, stunned. "You speak English?"   
  
"En-glish? What that?"   
  
"Uh... another word for Basic."   
  
"Ah yes, I know Basic. Learn from starman who study rocks in canyon." He pointed in the direction of Beggar's Canyon. "Gee-all-jist."   
  
"Ah, geologist," Luke realized. "So what exactly did our machine say to you?"   
  
"You really want know? It say 'we are Jedi Knights and we smell bad.'"   
  
Luke laughed while Gabriel glared at the translator device. "Is this the manufacturer's idea of a joke?" he growled.   
  
"Ah, not many people know Tusssssken," Xna replied with a smile. "They can be exxxxcussssed for their misssstake."   
  
Luke gestured to the gaderffi. "I'm not sure what this means. Can you explain, please?"   
  
"Yes, yes, I can, I can," the Tusken babbled, waving his good arm animatedly. "I speak for Sandpeople. Know Basic, so I be leader for this meeting. I put weapon down as show of peace. If Jedi do same, peace be between us. We not attack."   
  
Luke nodded and gently set his lightsaber on the ground. "Jedi seek nonviolent means of settling problems whenever possible. We would be glad to accept your offer of peace." He looked over to see his students, too, were lowering their weapons to the ground. Even a few of the townspeople were following suit.   
  
"Jedi are wise," noted the Tusken representative. "We know you not fight, but we are still pleased. My name is Wor'arran."   
  
"Luke Skywalker," Luke introduced with a little bow.   
  
The other Jedi introduced themselves as well:   
  
"Chyna Skleric."   
  
"Hekku."   
  
"Xna."   
  
"Gabriel DeBour."   
  
"Korbanna."   
  
"Good to meet you all," Wor'arran said.   
  
"What are you lot doing here?" asked the Ithorian in a not-so-friendly tone. "This is our territory."   
  
Wor'arran gave her a cool look. "Starwoman should know that we live here long time, before her. All this planet our territory."   
  
Luke knew that, whatever the Sandpeople's reason for being here, it wasn't going to be easy to maintain friendly relations between them and the people of Mos Eisley. The offworlders had bitter feelings toward the nomads, as many of them had lost friends and loved ones to Tusken attacks. In return, Sandpeople hated offworlders for intruding on their domain.   
  
"This be Sha'kooha, chief and shaman of the Dragon Tribe," Wor'arran introduced as a second Tusken slid down from his bantha and approached. Sha'kooha's body wrappings were intertwined with strips of brightly patterned snakeskin, and he wore a necklace of animal teeth and small bones. In one hand he carried, instead of a gaderffi, a staff carved from the leg bone of a ronto, with carved, hollow bone beads hanging from leather thongs on the top that clattered every time he moved. Around one wrist he wore a woven leather band with a polished blue krayt dragon gem bound within it.   
  
"Honored to meet you, Chief Sha'kooha," Luke greeted, bowing.   
  
Wor'arran translated, and the chief grunted and passed a hand over Luke's head, mumbling something.   
  
"Sha'kooha likes that Jedi treat him with respect," Wor'arran said. "He command spirits of desert to guard you and fellows."   
  
"Thank you, Chief," Luke replied.   
  
Sha'kooha continued to speak, motioning for Wor'arran to keep translating.   
  
"Chief not eager to ask help of starmen, but we not have choice. Starmen and Sandpeople never get along, but most starmen leave us alone. Now we are being attacked."   
  
"Three guesses who," Hekku muttered.   
  
"It is the same, wherever we go. They come in groups, always. They shoot and kill, then steal our food, weapons, animals, all they get hands on. They catch and beat some. It is awful, and they will not stop.   
  
"Chief go to other tribes. This is not often done. Tusken tribes stay far apart. Kill each other if not. But others know this must be done. Others be attacked too. Dewback Tribe, Ronto Tribe, Massif Tribe, Sarlaac Tribe, all attacked. Chiefs all know Sandpeople must do something or die.   
  
"Chiefs of all tribes tell Sandpeople to gather. Many come. Thousands. All together, one big camp. We stay outside this city. Send one chief and me to talk to starmen and ask for help." At this point Sha'kooha spread his arms wide and bellowed in triumph, rattling his staff so the beads clattered wildly. "And Jedi be with starmen! Spirits bless us! You will help, no?"   
  
Luke nodded slowly. "The starmen are being attacked, too. We fight the same enemy you do. They are pirates, and their leader is a dangerous man, one who seeks revenge."   
  
Wor'arran told this to Sha'kooha, who barked a reply.   
  
"Chief sees truth in you, Jedi Luke. Enemies of our enemies be our friends. If you will have it, of course."   
  
"I would be honored to call your people friends and allies," Luke replied.   
  
Sha'kooha bowed deeply, rumbling.   
  
"Chief is yours to command, Jedi Luke," Wor'arran said reverently.   
  
"Tell Chief Sha'kooha to take his party back to your camp. We'll send soldiers to guard you. If any among you knows anything about the pirates, send them back here and have them ask for Master Skywalker. Have Wor'arran go with them to translate."   
  
"It will be done as you command, Jedi Luke," Wor'arran said. "May the spirits be with you."   
  
"May the Force be with you," Luke replied with a wide grin.   
  
The chief remounted his bantha, Wor'arran retrieved his gaderffi, and the Tusken Raiders turned themselves around and began to march away.   
  
"That went better than I expected," Chyna said with a grin. "Not even a shot."   
  
"That should be the ideal outcome of any confrontation," Luke told his students. "Unfortunately, it's not always the case."   
  
"You're going to help them?!" demanded the moisture farmer, incredulous.   
  
"They have just proved themselves to be something other than vicious, mindless monsters," Korie barked with aid from her translator. "They are suffering the same problem you are. How can we, as Jedi, deny them aid?"   
  
Governor Nitch approached at that moment, kicking his eopie into a gallop. The beast staggered to a halt beside Luke.   
  
"I got here as fast as I could!" he panted. "I was told Sandpeople..."   
  
"You're a few minutes too late," Gabriel told him.   
  
"Oh." He stared after the departing nomads. "Uh, what did they want?"   
  
"Help," Luke replied. "The pirates, apparently, aren't choosy, and the Sandpeople are victims of their atrocities too. They're camped outside Mos Eisley and will need Republic troops to protect them."   
  
Nitch hesitated, then nodded. "It will be done, Master Jedi."   
  
Luke smiled and turned back to his Padawans. "So, shall we get back to our breakfasts before they get cold?" 


	7. Mandalorian Messenger

Chapter VII - Mandalorian Messenger  
  
"Uh, do you realize those stealth troopers are right on your tail?" asked Cody, glancing nervously behind.   
  
"For the eleventh time, Cody, I have known they are behind us for the past half hour," Anakin sighed.   
  
Star City was peaceful for a change. Stellar-Con had been over for a week. The Eye of the Storm was in full swing. Except for Austin and Liberty, who were honeymooning in Florida, and Trapper, who was currently in Chicago with his mother, most of Vader's Elite was at home. It was a lazy summer day, perfect for a stroll, and Cody, Amethyst, and Anakin were taking advantage of the glorious weather to do so.   
  
It would have been perfect if the stealth troopers hadn't demanded to accompany them. Anakin silently wished something would attack and off the guards just so he could have a little peace.   
  
"So how're things with the younglings?" asked Amethyst.   
  
"I declared today a free day so I could have a break," Anakin answered. "Brigham volunteered to watch them."   
  
"He'll convert 'em all to Mormonism," teased Cody.   
  
"Actually, he'll be a great babysitter," Amethyst defended. "One of his first church jobs was teaching Primary -- that's Mormon Sunday School for kids, he told me."   
  
"Is being a Jedi against their religion?" asked Cody.   
  
"Search me."   
  
A Jedi-dress Luke Skywalker impostor and an AT-AT pilot walked out of the Leapfrog Diner at that moment, nearly running into Anakin.   
  
"Excuse us," the Skywalker wannabe mumbled.   
  
"Hey, isn't he..." began the pilot.   
  
"You know what, he isn't," Amethyst cut in. "Dave here just gets that so much, being as big as he is. It's rather annoying."   
  
"I can imagine," the fake Luke noted sympathetically. "I look a lot like Mark Hamill and get teased a lot for it. Nice costume, by the way."   
  
"Geeks are so gullible," Cody giggled as the two went on their way.   
  
"At least it's the Eye of the Storm and I can pull that off," Anakin replied. "The rest of the year I'm at the Stargeeks' mercy."   
  
"Hey, has Luke called?" asked Amethyst.   
  
"Once. He believes a Jedi might be behind the pirate attack."   
  
"A Jedi?" she repeated. "You mean one besides Yoda and Obi-wan survived?"   
  
"Well, the son of a Jedi, anyway. He thinks the pirate leader wants revenge for my role in the death of his mother, though how his plan involves harassing some out-of-the-way world is unclear."   
  
Amethyst shrugged. "Maybe he needs provisions for a war effort against Earth."   
  
"Honey, you coulda gone all day without saying that!" Cody exclaimed.   
  
"Oh, calm down, dear. Or have you been watching another cheapo alien invasion film?"   
  
"Listen, Mary Poppins, just 'cause I saw 'Plan 9 From Outer Space' again last night doesn't mean I'm going paranoid or anythi..."   
  
A Boba Fett impostor emerged from the alleyway behind the Leapfrog at that moment, pointed a blaster rifle their way, and fired. The shot was a deliberate miss that hit the concrete at Cody's feet. His spiel terminated in a high-pitched shriek as he tried his hardest to climb up Anakin.   
  
"What the..." demanded Amethyst.   
  
Immediately the stealth troopers clustered around the three of them, guns trained on their attacker.   
  
"Don't shoot," the man rasped. "I have a message for Mr. Skywalker."   
  
"Stand aside," ordered Anakin. "Get off of me, Cody."   
  
Teeth chattering, Cody complied, and the troopers parted to let Anakin get a good look at their assailant.   
  
At first glance he appeared to be simply another Fett imitation, something fairly common here during the Eye of the Storm. But the color of his armor was wrong -- metallic blue, with a green-edged T-slit in the visor and a darker green bodyglove beneath the armor. A ragged tan cloak was flung over one shoulder, and a vibroblade with a twenty-centimeter blade hung from his belt. Other weapons were visible on his arms, legs, and belt, and Anakin was sure more were concealed from view. Even more disturbingly, on each shoulder he wore a band emblazoned with the dragon-starburst crest of Kruvex.   
  
"You're a Mandalorian," he noted, gripping his lightsaber.   
  
"Obviously," the man declared. "You may call me by my mission's code name, Claw."   
  
"Then the Mandalorians have joined the pirates in their siege," Anakin replied, more stating a fact than anything.   
  
"We have," Claw replied, "though not for their leader's cause. We are receiving payment for our troubles."   
  
The two geeks from the Leapfrog pointed at the standoff, gawking. Soon a crowd was gathering to witness the altercation. Anakin hoped Claw wouldn't attack, but if he did, he hoped no civilians would be injured in the fray.   
  
"Why are you here?" he demanded.   
  
Claw lowered his rifle. "Because we have learned the full nature of our mission, and one of our number had died for betraying that information."   
  
Anakin was at once attentive. "Go on."   
  
"I cannot give full details, as I, like my comrades, am sworn to secrecy on pain of death. My sister, code-name Venom, was captured by the Jedi, and our employer murdered her when she revealed too much." There was a jerk of movement in Claw's neck as he swallowed hard. "I would like to avoid such a fate, so I, too, must keep the vow."   
  
Anakin suppressed an impatient snarl. He could understand the mercenary's reluctance, but it still irked him to be so close to a source of information and yet so far.   
  
"I can, however, tell you this much -- your son is in mortal peril if he and his students remain on the planet. I came to warn you, for unlike pirates, Mandalorians have a sense of honor. And though we dislike the Jedi -- " and his tone made it perfectly clear that the warriors more than simply disliked the Order, " -- we have no wish to see them exterminated a second time. The galaxy nearly self-destructed the first time the Order died out. A second extinction might destroy us all.   
  
"My advice would be to take one of two courses of action. Call Luke back from his mission and send him back to the safety of his Academy, then let the Republic deal with the pirate issue. Or give yourself over to my employer to end the conflict and save your son. Either way, act fast. My employer grows impatient, and it will not be long before he hurries his plans along."   
  
Anakin nodded. "I am most grateful for your warning, sir. You may go."   
  
Claw gave a respectful bow. "May the Force be with you." He spun on his heel and strode briskly into the Leapfrog.   
  
"All right, back off people, nothing more to see here!" shouted Amethyst, shooing the crowd away. "Move along, move along."   
  
"Dude, what was that all about?" asked Cody.   
  
"It was a warning, never mind the source," Anakin replied. "And I'd be a fool not to act on it. I'm going home and calling Luke."   
  
"No!" Luke exclaimed firmly over the holocomm.   
  
"Luke..." began Anakin.   
  
"The Republic Army's been trying to do something about these pirates, and they haven't been able to stop it," Luke continued. "That's why we were sent here. I can't stop the mission now. We have to help these people!"   
  
"If it came down to losing Tatooine or losing the New Jedi Order, I would rather lose Tatooine," Anakin replied.   
  
"Aren't you overreacting, Father? It WAS a Mandalorian that told you all this, and they're in league with the pirates, you know."   
  
"We won't discuss overreaction," Anakin shot back. "Those thrice-blasted stealth troopers of yours nearly killed my informant before I could question him."   
  
Luke gave a mock scowl. "Don't make me come back there and assign more troops to keep you in line."   
  
"Oh, I'm afraid," Anakin replied blandly.   
  
Luke laughed.   
  
"Look," Anakin went on, "I sensed no deception in the man. And he has every reason to hate the pirates. Their leader killed his sister."   
  
"Sister... she must have been the one we questioned!"   
  
"Yes. There is truth in his words. You're in great danger, Luke. You must leave Tatooine."   
  
"I can't. I'm sworn to protect these people."   
  
"Luke, I will NOT lose you! If I weren't in exile, I'd go as far as turning myself in to the pirates to ensure no harm came to you."   
  
"And I'm not going to lose YOU, not again! You're going to stay right there until we've sorted this mess out! On my orders as well as Mace Windu's!"   
  
Anakin's phone rang.   
  
"I can't stop you, Luke, even though I dislike what you're doing," he growled. "But swear you'll be very careful." He picked up the receiver. "Skywalker."   
  
"Better turn on the TV, Anakin," Mrs. Hendrix said from the other end of the line. "Channel four, the news just started. Somethin' you need to see."   
  
"That bad, is it?" He picked up the remote and activated the device.   
  
"Just thought you'd wanna know," she explained, then hung up.   
  
"What's going on?" asked Luke.   
  
Anakin turned the holocam on the projector so Luke could see the screen.   
  
"An innocent science fiction party at a Star City dance hall turned deadly this evening when an injured, unidentified man died on the floor," reported the newscaster. "Witnesses say the man, who was wearing battle armor similar to that of resident bounty hunter Boba Fett, staggered into the building acting delirious and confused before collapsing. Although CPR was performed immediately, he was pronounced dead on arrival at the Star City Medical Center."   
  
"Claw," Anakin realized. "It had to be Claw."   
  
"Paramedics at the scene say the man's confusion was most likely caused by excessive blood loss," the reporter continued. "Official autopsy reports will not be released until tomorrow afternoon, but paramedics say it appeared that the man's injuries were inflicted by a knife or claws. Anyone with information regarding this man's identity or the identity of his assailant is encouraged to contact the White Deer County Sherrif's Department."   
  
"Evidently he said too much," Luke said gravely as Anakin turned off the set.   
  
"Yet not enough," Anakin replied. "He did us a great service, yet we still don't know what our Kruvexian friend hopes to accomplish by brutalizing Tatooine."   
  
"I have a feeling we'll soon find out." 


	8. The Dragon

Chapter VIII - The Dragon  
  
Despite his father's warning, Luke did not intend on leaving his homeworld until he had dealt with the attackers. He felt he would be doing the natives and settlers a great disservice if he left them now. This feeling had only been intensified by his visits to the refugee camps surrounding the city.   
  
The next morning, he and his Padawans gathered at the city square to update each other on what they had learned from talking to the refugees.   
  
/Is there no end to their brutality?/ Korie raged the moment Xna, who had come a longer distance than the others, joined the group. /There were four pregnant Tusken women in the Massif Tribe and they've been raped because, after all, even if they knew of our legal system they couldn't sue on a paternity claim./   
  
"Are they all right?" asked Xna, appalled.   
  
"Who could be all right after that?" Hekku replied. "They're recovering, if that's what you mean. The youngest of them is close to the end of her pregnancy, so medics are being kept nearby to assist as needed."   
  
"Chyna and I arrived at the Jawa encampment by the podracing track just in time to chase off a couple of Rodians with mischief in mind," Gabriel reported. "Chyna saw that they both wore the Kruvex seal."   
  
"Thank you, you two," Luke replied. "Xna?"   
  
He gave a ripple of his body, the equivalent of a shrug. "Nothing unusssssual to report."   
  
With a sigh he motioned them to follow him back to the cantina. "We need to find some sort of advantage we can obtain over the pirates. They're getting too crafty."   
  
"What kind of advantage are you talking about?" asked Chyna.   
  
"I'm not sure. Some sort of weapon, or even another, more experienced Jedi. Anything to drive off the pirates and capture or confront their leader."   
  
"Your father?" suggested Gabriel.   
  
"Not an option," Luke said quickly. "He has four years to go before he can leave Earth."   
  
There was a stir by the cantina, and over the heads of the onlookers Luke could see Wor'arran waving from atop his bantha. The Jedi waded through the crowd to get to the Tusken.   
  
"Jedi Luke!" he shouted, sliding down his mount's shaggy side. "You be back! I get worried!"   
  
"What is it?" Luke asked, motioning for him to enter the cantina.   
  
"News for you, news," he replied easily, strutting into the bar as if he were a frequent customer. He attracted plenty of stares but graciously ignored them.   
  
"What'll it be, senor?" asked Ricardo. Being from Earth and so not quite adjusted to Tatooine's ways, he took Wor'arran's presence in stride.   
  
"Water," he replied.   
  
"You don't drink?" asked Gabriel, sniffing his Corellian grog as if it were a rare wine before sipping it.   
  
"I do!" Wor'arran exclaimed. "All must drink to live, no?"   
  
"He meant alcoholic beverages," Luke explained.   
  
"You mean starmen's fire drinks? Sandpeople do not drink for two reasons. One, we do not make them. Do not know how. Two, they burn going down. We think fools drink only, no?"   
  
At once Gabriel discreetly dumped his grog into the cup of a nearby, drunkenly oblivious Duros.   
  
Ricardo set a glass of water in front of Wor'arran. "Would you like a straw?"   
  
"Yes, please."   
  
He stuck one in the Tusken's cup. "Buenos tardes, senor."   
  
Wor'arran stared after the departing bartender. "What he say?"   
  
"That's his native tongue for 'good afternoon, sir,'" Luke explained.   
  
The Tusken snorted. "Starmen have too much languages." He wiped the beads of condensation off the sides of his cup and stuck his finger through a slit in his facial wrappings, savoring the drops. Water was a precious commodity on Tatooine, especially to the natives, who hadn't the mechanical means of extracting moisture from the air or ground. Once he'd dried off the outside of the glass he tucked the straw through the slit and savored the liquid.   
  
Korie whuffed. "You had something to tell us?" her translator chirped.   
  
"Yes, yes, yes," he babbled. "Chief Sha'kooha say Tusken scouts see starmen ships land in Dune Sea. Maybe pirates, no?"   
  
"Do you have coordinates for the spot?" asked Chyna.   
  
Wor'arran gave her a blank stare. The word "coordinates" meant absolutely nothing to a Tusken. "Ships land in west, where suns touch desert at night."   
  
"Xna, find a comm and report this to the Bestine base," Luke ordered. Xna slithered off to comply.   
  
"Is that all?" asked Luke.   
  
Wor'arran looked around as if to make sure no one was listening (they were purposely oblivious, thinking that if Master Skywalker was crazy enough to talk to a Tusken, it was his own funeral), then leaned toward the Jedi. "I know one who may help Jedi fight pirates."   
  
Luke froze, his ruby bliel halfway to his lips. Was this the break he was waiting for? They could use all the help they could get in keeping the attackers under control. Yet how did Wor'arran find such an ally? Did the Tuskens have connections to the Hutts? Or was there something Wor'arran wasn't telling the Jedi? And who was this "one who may help?"   
  
"Go on," he encouraged.   
  
"Do not tell Chief I tell you this," he hissed desperately. "Bad things happen to me. Is not something we tell starmen."   
  
That increased Luke's suspicions. And yet he sensed no malice in their informant's thoughts.   
  
"We won't tell," promised Hekku.   
  
"Many thanks." He took another drink. "Help is called the Dragon. She lives in desert, many days journey -- you call place Jundland Wastes, eh?"   
  
Gabriel laughed. "Someone called 'the Dragon' must be a dodgy character." Luke gave the Earth man a stern look to shut him up.   
  
"The Dragon not be dodgy," Wor'arran protested. "She is... what word? Mysterious. Very wise, but stays far away from anyone. Some call her witch."   
  
"A witch?" Luke repeated.   
  
"Yes. Good witch. Come down from home to help our tribe three, four times maybe. Once chase off krayt dragon. Once help Chief's mate when she get snakebite and be ill. Very good, but many fear her. Have reason to. Starmen in white armor try to catch her once, and they drop dead like they be shot." He smacked the table for emphasis. "I saw. I know."   
  
Luke was definitely intrigued now. "She sounds like a fellow Jedi."   
  
"No, not be Jedi. Not have light sword. She be Tusken Raider. Live on Tatooine, never leave."   
  
"But that doesn't make sense," protested Chyna. "How can she be a Force user and not be a Jedi?"   
  
"Could she be a Sith?" Hekku hypothesized.   
  
"More likely she's self-trained," Luke answered. "Sometimes a Force-sensitive being who wasn't discovered by the Order would learn himself to control his powers to a certain degree. Few of them had anything to do with the Jedi and called themselves wizards. The Dragon must be one."   
  
Wor'arran nodded eagerly. "She lives far, in Madman's Crown. On foot it is eight days, but starmen's machines get there sooner, eh?"   
  
"Why haven't the Sandpeople gone to her earlier?" Luke asked.   
  
He cringed at the mention of going to her. "No Tusken go into Madman's Crown! Is circle of mountains, very steep. Dangerous to travel. And Dragon not like trespassers in her home. Will chase them out. If they not be chased, she kill them. But Jedi, maybe, can go into Crown and live, eh?"   
  
Luke didn't particularly like the sound of this. If the Dragon was supposedly so helpful and benign, why would she kill intruders? And why hadn't she emerged earlier to help her people? Should they really risk the journey to Madman's Crown?   
  
Tentatively he reached out with the Force, stretching his awareness, seeking this being's mind. Some distance away he found her, a pulsing glow in the blankness of the Wastes. She seemed to feel his probe and brushed his mind, probably to discern his intent. He slammed up a shield to prevent her from digging too far. What did she seek?   
  
When she encountered his shield she drew back, wary. Along their connection she sent a single, inquisitive thought.   
  
/Friend or foe?/ Those three simple words were infused with infinite caution and carried a tone that promised instant enmity if he proved to be the latter.   
  
/A friend... I hope./   
  
/Jedi?/ The tone was hopeful, yet at the same time the voice seemed to grieve. Was she indeed a survivor of the Purges?   
  
/Yes. I am Jedi Master Luke Skywalker./   
  
The wave of jubilation that flooded him nearly overwhelmed him. But just as suddenly she reined in her emotions, as if by exposing them she made herself vulnerable. In a way, she wasn't far off.   
  
/I wait for you/ was her simple reply, and she broke the contact.   
  
Luke shook his head, bewildered.   
  
/Master, are you okay?/ asked Korie, her familiar touch a comfort.   
  
"She..." Luke began, then revised the comment. "She sounds like an interesting character. We'll have to consider that option."   
  
"Jedi not go seek her?" Wor'arran asked, puzzled.   
  
"Like I said, we'll consider it."   
  
Slightly crestfallen, Wor'arran finished his drink and stood. "Jedi should not fear. They have power, same as Dragon. Maybe she be friendly with you."   
  
"And maybe not," Luke replied. But he couldn't ignore the feeling that he should meet this reclusive sorceress.   
  
"I still think she sounds dodgy," Gabriel muttered, spinning his empty glass on the bar.   
  
"We all know what you think," huffed Chyna.   
  
The dun stone buildings of Mos Eisley and its surrounding panorama of dunes, plateaus, and hard-packed sand were stained red-gold in the fiery light of the rising double suns. Sitting atop an abandoned, rusted-out speeder, Luke watched as first one blindingly brilliant orb edged over the horizon, then another, staring down like a pair of glowing yellow eyes. Their glare burned away the night's lingering chill and began to warm the metal beneath Luke's thighs and buttocks to an uncomfortable temperature.   
  
Luke was unaware of the discomfort. He had been outside all night, listening, meditating. He had felt his sister, far away and enjoying herself on Mon Calamari with Han. As she should be, Luke thought with a smile. Closer than that but still some distance away was his father and the Padawan learners on Earth, engrossed in their day-to-day living. Krad was out there somewhere, he sensed, but his presence was oddly diffuse. Luke figured he was cloaking his mind to prevent Luke from locating him. And from Tatooine's wastes, off in the east, the Dragon awaited him.   
  
Should he go? His presence was required here. The pirate threat loomed as large as ever. But then again, the Dragon could be a powerful ally if he could convince her to join his cause. Yet if she refused, the journey would have been in vain. And there was always the possibility that Krad had already recruited her to his twisted cause.   
  
/Anything's possible, but few things are probable./ Luke didn't know who had said that; he'd only spotted it on a bank's marquee while traveling through Denver six months back. But it applied here. It was entirely possible for the Dragon to be a Jedi, Sith, Mandalorian, or lawyer for all he knew. But most probably she was just a Force-strong Tusken who simply wished to be left alone.   
  
He stood and rubbed his backside, then stretched to limber up his muscles. The decision was made. He would go into Madman's Crown and pay the Dragon a visit. If she chose to help them, well and good. If she refused, so be it. But either way, at least the knew what side she was on.   
  
"Master?"   
  
He turned to see Chyna watching him, her jet-black hair pulled back at the temples, a night robe over her shoulders.   
  
"I'll need my travel kit, Chyna," he told her. "I'll be gone for several days. Tell the others when they wake up."   
  
"I'm coming with you," she said firmly.   
  
"No, Chyna," he replied. "I need you all to stay here. I'm confident in your skills and know you can take care of things here."   
  
She pressed her lips together nervously. "And if you don't come back?"   
  
"Send word to my sister and father. Leia will handle things on Tatooine in my stead, and Anakin can take over the order."   
  
She nodded but still looked troubled. Luke had rescued Chyna from a horrid fate in Kessel's spice mines, and she had been the first student to join the Order. She was very close to him, and if he were to be killed on this journey, of all his students she would take his death the hardest.   
  
"I'll get your pack," she said at last, her voice breaking.   
  
"Thank you. I need to rent a vehicle. Meet me back here in ten minutes." 


	9. Fett Family Values

Chapter IX - Fett Family Values

"Oh great!" exclaimed Xna, baring his fangs in a gesture of exasperation. "Masssster Sssskywalker'sss gone completely off his rocker!"

"You're sure he went to Madman's Crown?" asked Hekku.

/Where else would he go/ demanded Korie. /You saw the look on his face when Wor'arran told him where to find the Dragon./

"I suggest we go after him!" Hekku announced. "He can't have gone too far by now."

"His orders were to stay here," Chyna protested. "We're supposed to take care of the pirate threat while he's gone."

"Oh?" demanded Gabriel. "And what are five Padawans supposed to do about pirates, Mandalorians, and a rabidly vengeful Force-user?"

"Look, I know it's a shock," Chyna told him. "But he did say he thinks we can handle it."

/She's right/ Korie pointed out. /He's putting a lot of trust in us. Let's not disappoint him./

"Good day, Jedi!" Wor'arran greeted, striding toward their table in the cantina. Several customers gave him odd looks as he walked past.

"Hi, Wor," muttered Xna.

"Wor'arran," he corrected. Sandpeople didn't seem to be keen on nicknames. "Where's Jedi Luke? Asleep still?"

"No, monsier, he went to Madman's Crown this morning," Gabriel replied.

Wor'arran gave a honk of dismay. "He WHAT!"

"Our sentiments exactly," Hekku replied.

"He go into Madman's Crown? Alone? No starman warriors with him?"

"No, he just took a survival kit, a speeder bike, and his lightsaber," Chyna told him. "Told us to handle the pirates in his stead."

"Is Jedi Luke crazy!" demanded Wor'arran, waving his hands around in panic. "No one go into Crown alone! That why we call Madman's Crown! Only madmen go in alone!"

"Too late to do anything about it now," Xna said resignedly. "Jussst do assss he ordered."

"I would hate to have to be the one to tell Anakin if that Dragon witchwoman decided to kill Master Luke," Gabriel said gravely.

"What, is he going to fall apart?" demanded Chyna. "He's a Jedi; they should know how to take loss."

Gabriel snorted. "Tusken Raiders killed Anakin's mother," he explained. "In his rage, he killed the entire camp. Even the women and children." The other Jedi's eyes went wide at this announcement. "That started him on the path to the dark side. If a Tusken killed his son, he might very well fall apart."

"And how do you know this?" Hekku asked skeptically.

"I am a geek," he said proudly. "Many of my friends are geeks. I belong to certain geek organizations -- the Fighting 501st, the Official Star Wars Fan Club, FanForce, and the like. And as a geek, I am privy to some very interesting information."

Wor'arran looked from one Jedi to another in bewildered confusion. This conversation was getting way over his head.

"Before we get into another one of Gabriel's geek conversations," Korie said sternly, using the translator for Wor'arran's benefit, "let's review the facts. Master Skywalker is on a mission that will hopefully benefit our current situation. He's asked us to carry on in his absence. So what should we do -- watch for more pirate activity and protect Tatooine? Or sit around and debate his sanity while the pirates do whatever they wish?"

"Good point," Xna noted.

"Why don't we check out the refugee camps?" asked Hekku. "Korie and I will take the northern Jawa and smuggler encampments. They're especially vulnerable."

"Gabriel and I will have a look at the Anchorhead camp," Chyna replied. "Xna, find Governor Nitch and go with him to check the eastern settlement."

"It will be done," he replied.

"Wor'arran, go back to the Tusken camp and await further orders," Gabriel told him. "If the Tusken scouts see anything unusual, have them report to us."

"Yes, Jedi Gabriel," he said.

_Break…_

Boba Fett staggered through the apartment, grumbling and rubbing his eyes groggily. Who the stang was calling at one-thirty in the blasted morning?

"Fett residence," he growled, flicking on the holocomm unit.

Aurra Sing took one look at him and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Shut up," he snarled.

"The two most important garments, I see," she giggled.

He grabbed Liz's nightrobe and threw it around him, thankful that his wife wasn't much into frills or feminine colors. What was Aurra's problem, anyway? Plenty of men slept in their underwear. And his wife and daughter were the only people he would allow to see his unmasked face.

"Say what you have to say and get off the line," he hissed. "Sleep's a precious commodity these days."

She snorted. "Should have though of that before you adopted."

"It's worth the hassle," he assured her. "Though I doubt you'd ever know, cold-hearted as you are."

"Let's cut to the chase, Fett," she replied curtly. "I have a message from Tusk."

He stared blankly at her. "Who the hell is Tusk?"

"The Mandalorians are regrouping and taking on their first mission in many years," she answered. "Their new leader, Jodo Kast, has taken on the code name of Tusk for this mission. And I have been temporarily recruited to their cause." She smiled. "Who knows? I may become one myself. Be one step ahead of the galaxy's supposed best."

"What does this have to do with me?" he demanded.

"Jodo Kast wants me to deliver an ultimatum."

"For the last time, I'm not joining them. My father may have been a Mandalorian, but I am clearly not my father, am I? I'm not interested in belonging to any organization or establishment apart from my family."

"Let me elaborate," she said in a silky voice that concealed venom. "Kast knows who killed the Mandalorian on Earth. He has contacts there. And he can easily arrange it to make you the prime suspect."

"So join them or go to prison, is that it?" He laughed. "Tell Kast I have a solid alibi for that night. Naomi had an ear infection, and twenty people saw and heard us in the doctor's office the hour he was murdered."

She gave a chilling smile. "I'll be sure to let him know. But be warned, Fett -- Kast's getting tired of you. Non-Mandalorians have no right to wear the armor. I'd be very careful if I were you, unless you either changed your mind about joining or reconsidered your wardrobe."

"Why don't you go stun yourself?" he suggested before turning off the comm.

As he entered the bedroom again he took another look at his sleeping wife and baby. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated their faces, Liz's serene in a deep sleep, Naomi's with her fists planted in her mouth. He smiled and touched Naomi's face gently, then sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his wife's thick black hair.

/How in the stars did I get so lucky/ he wondered, lifting her hand to kiss it.

A shrill, plaintive cry alerted him, and he turned to the crib.

"Honey," Liz moaned, starting to get up.

"You sleep," Fett told her. "I'll handle it."

He carried Naomi back to the living room, rocking her, trying to soothe her. She wasn't wet or messy, and she wouldn't accept her bottle. What was wrong with her? Had she had a nightmare? Did babies this young have dreams?

/I wouldn't blame her if she suffered a nightmare. She's been through so much for someone so young./

He could only imagine how traumatic it must have been for her, even being so young and not understanding concepts like pirates and murder. It would have been so terrifying to see flashes of light, hear the screams of her parents, the harsh voices of the strangers as they tore the place apart, destroying what they didn't deem valuable. And then to be taken away in strange arms to an unfamiliar place far, far away...

He bent down to gently kiss her tiny forehead. It would not happen a second time. Not if he could help it. Kast could bluster and threaten all he wanted, but Fett wasn't going to put some warrior's order before his family. Mandalorians demanded total dedication to their cause, whatever it might be at the moment, and he didn't have that to give. Liz and Naomi were his first priorities.

And if Kast ever did or threatened to do anything that would put the women he loved in jeopardy, it would be the last thing he ever did.

He sat in the recliner and carefully rocked Naomi, whose cries were abating as she calmed down. Stang, how he loved this child! He prayed he could be as good a father as Jango. If only the elder Fett could be around to see his grandchild.

When Liz walked into the living room later that morning, on her way to the kitchen and a morning cup of coffee, she saw Fett asleep in the recliner, Naomi in his arms. She smiled gently and kissed each of them on the cheek.

"You'll be a good daddy, dear," she whispered

_Break…_

"Master Skywalker, look out!"

Anakin snapped out of meditation and stood, at once alert. But nothing seemed to be wrong. The Padawans were all meditating on the unifying Force, Patrick and Jason were making noise in the kitchen as they attempted to fix the toaster Ra- Sheen had crammed several videotapes into, and Gregory was watching the lesson in interest. He sensed nothing amiss. But Nautala was wide-eyed with panic and gasping for breath.

"Nautala?" he inquired.

"I saw Master Skywalker!" he babbled. "He was riding a speeder bike an' got shot from behind an' he fell off an' he grabbed his lightsaber an' three ugly guys an' a girl jumped after him..."

"Shut up, you're bugging me!" demanded Miso, opening one eye. Nautala's rambling was interrupting everyone's meditation.

"...an' Master Skywalker chopped one of them's arm off an' this big tentacle reached out to grab them 'cause I guess the bike crashed right by a sarlaac pit..."

"Nautala, stop," Anakin ordered gently. "It's all right."

"But it was so REAL!" the boy gushed.

"Well, when I was listening to the Force, I saw Master Skywalker talking to a Sandpeople with a broken arm," Rachel piped up, standing.

"Yeah, like that could ever happen," Niya scoffed.

"It could!" Rachel defended, glaring at the Twi'leck with her hands on her hips.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"All right, you two, that's enough," Anakin ordered. "Sit down, Rachel."

"But it could happen!" Rachel shouted, flopping down with a pout.

"Nautala and Rachel have both seen some interesting things," Anakin told the others. "But remember the wise words of Master Yoda, which are..."

"Always in motion is the future," the students chanted together.

"That's correct. These visions may come true and they may not. They are simply scenes of what COULD be, not what WILL be."

Nautala seemed to relax with this news while Rachel's pout deepened.

"Gregory, what time is it?" asked Anakin.

He checked his watch. "Four-thirty."

"Goodness! We've been at this for hours! Very well, you're all dismissed for the day."

Everyone cheered and stood.

"And as a treat for being so well-behaved, our friends Mr. Gregory Skinner and Miss Darcy Akers are going to take you all to see a movie tonight."

"All right, you little munchkins," Gregory ordered when the second round of cheering ended. "Out the door. Movie starts at six."

Once the last Padawan was out the door, Jason exploded into a torrent of profanity. Anakin calmly walked into the kitchen and helped himself to a handful of potato chips as Jason continued his expletive-filled tirade.

"Are you done?" he asked.

Jason ended the spiel with a yowl as he cut his thumb trying to pry the remains of a cassette out of the appliance. "Add the cost of a new toaster, four Monty Python videos, and a screwdriver to the Republic's bill."

"Will do."

"Don't take it so hard," Patrick told his brother. "Ra-Sheen wasn't being malicious."

Jason grunted. "Why'd I let you talk me into this?"

"You tell me."

"At least they're not yet to the point where they require lightsaber drilling," Anakin said.

Jason cringed, imagining the damage. "Point taken."

"Think there could be anything to those visions?" asked Patrick.

Anakin shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I hope not, of course. Being attacked by pirates wouldn't exactly be pleasant. But he knew the risks when he accepted this mission. It's a possibility he'll be attacked."

"What about Rachel's vision?" asked Jason.

"Tuskens aren't famed for their diplomatic skills. Unless he strays too far into the Wastes, I doubt he'll encounter one."


	10. Love and War

Chapter X - Love and War  
  
Luke's speeder bucked underneath him, throwing him to the sands. He rolled to his feet and ignited his saber even as the damaged bike, smoking at its back end, plowed its nose into a small dune and cartwheeled into a depression. Over his head swooped a skycar, its occupants shouting and laughing as they leaped to the ground.   
  
Quickly he surveyed the characters, judging them as best as he was able. A scrawny Rodian, missing a bulbous eye and clutching a blaster in each hand. A Mandalorian with reddish-gold armor and a yellow visor, a slender stun rifle in his arms. A heavily tattooed Devaronian, wearing ragged sleeveless robes and holding an unwieldy blaster cannon. And a female Bothan armed with a long wicked-looking vibroblade. Each wore the Kruvexian crest and looked to be out for blood.   
  
"He's a Jedi!" the Devaronian screeched, the color draining from his face.   
  
"He's still dead meat," hissed the Bothan.   
  
The Rodian charged, yelling and firing with both hands. Luke deflected the fire, the bolts hitting the sand and throwing up dust. Sensing an attack coming from behind, he sliced back and to the left, chopping off an arm. The Bothan screamed in furious pain.   
  
"Serves you right!" snarled the Mandalorian. "The boss wants the Jedi alive!"   
  
Luke angled his lightsaber to catch a stun bolt, which ricocheted back at the Mandalorian and hit him in the stomach. He gave a yelp of pain and collapsed, unmoving.   
  
Something hissed behind him, and he turned to see a beak-like mouth emerge from the pit where the swoop bike lay. The sarlaac clamped its maw around the vehicle and began to snap it to pieces.   
  
The Rodian shouted again and fired as a greenish-tan tentacle wriggled toward him. His aim was terrible, probably resulting from his lost eye, so the serpentine limb was mostly unscathed when it grabbed the pirate and dragged him toward the hideous mouth. The Devaronian, too, tried to shoot the creature, but when he missed he opted for the wiser course of action and jumped back into the skycar, revving it up and flying away.   
  
Luke slashed open one tentacle that reached for him, and the sarlaac screeched in agony. He bolted forward and cut through the limb holding the Rodian. The pirate scrambled to his feet and ran a safe distance away, the severed tentacle still wrapped around his shoulders and torso. Luke began to regret his altruism, however, when three more tentacles grabbed him. He managed to sever one before another gripped his weapon-arm and pulled it taut, rendering him virtually helpless as he slid toward the beast's gaping jaws.   
  
Something swished by his head, and the sarlaac howled and released him, several of its limbs oozing with ichor. Luke stood hurriedly and backed away. But the sarlaac had apparently had enough and was retreating into its hole, growling from being cheated out of a meal.   
  
The Rodian and Bothan eyed him cautiously, keeping their weapons trained on him. He noticed the Bothan's vibroblade was smeared with green. She'd cut him free! Not to be kindly, of course -- she simply didn't want to face her boss' wrath when he discovered she'd allowed a desert monster to kill their target.   
  
"You'd better take your friend here to Mos Eisley," Luke suggested with a nudge of the Force. "He'll need medical care, as will you, miss."   
  
The Bothan looked at the Rodian. "We'd better take our friend here to Mos Eisley," she told him.   
  
The Rodian nodded. "He'll need medical care. As will you, miss."   
  
He grabbed the Mandalorian's shoulders and tried to drag him away. The Bothan did her best to help, but being one-armed she was more of a hindrance now. They were arguing over whether to fire a distress signal and wait for rescue or scrape together materials to make a litter when Luke walked out of earshot.   
  
He squinted at the horizon. Rising from the Dune Sea was the ragged circle of peaks that formed Madman's Crown. It was quite a foreboding landmark, looking bleak and somehow cold against the sweltering landscape.   
  
/Looks like I walk from here/ he thought, slinging his travel pack over his shoulder. /And so much for getting my deposit back on that swoop./   
  
Chyna sat down on an overturned crate and watched the proceedings, marveling. To her left, a female Tusken Raider busily wove strands of bantha hair on a crude loom to fashion a blanket. A bantha lay on its belly nearby and chewed its cut as it watched her with a sort of dull, bovine interest. To Chyna's right, a Zabrak woman sat cross-legged on the ground, adding tea leaves to a portable cooking reactor while the family dewback drowsed behind her.   
  
Directly in front of the young Jedi, under their mother's wary gazes, a Tusken child and a Zabrak boy giggled and squealed as they played some complex game with lines and pebbles in the sand, seemingly unaware that they were from two vastly different peoples and language being no barrier to their fun.   
  
"Rather amazing, isn't it?" Gabriel noted, coming to sit by her.   
  
She nodded. "For all our surface differences, offworlders and Sandpeople really aren't that different."   
  
"There is a story on my homeworld," said Gabriel, "than in America, little rodent animals called squirrels lived. When the Grand Canyon was formed, squirrels on both sides of the canyon were separated from each other. The ones on the north side became bigger, furrier, and had bushy tails. The ones on the south side became sleeker, meaner, and had short tails." He adjusted his robes. "And even though they look different and act different, inside they are the same squirrel."   
  
She smiled. "I like that story. Is it a legend of your people?"   
  
"Not mine," he replied. "It is an American story, and I come from France." He shrugged. "I don't even know if it a true American legend. I just heard it on a movie, 'Fools Rush In.'"   
  
"I haven't seen that. The only Earth holovids I've seen are 'Return of the Jedi' and 'Finding Nemo.'"   
  
"Really? You should see 'Les Miserables' sometime. Wonderful story about the French Revolution -- history of my people!" He beamed.   
  
"Tell me about Paris, Gabriel. What's it like?"   
  
"Oh, mademoiselle, it is lovely!" he exclaimed. "If only you could see it! We have some of the most beautiful buildings, like the Eiffel Tower and the Cathedral of Notre Dame. And the Louvre -- that's an art gallery, very beautiful work there -- and open-air markets and the food..." He sighed. "I miss the food the most. The only Earth food they sell on Corusant is that American grease."   
  
"Hey, I like pizza!" Chyna retorted.   
  
"Pizza comes from Italy, not America," Gabriel corrected.   
  
"Oh, who cares?" she declared. "Your planet sounds wonderful, wherever you go on it. How I'd love to go there and spend longer than fifteen minutes in a spaceport!"   
  
"Maybe Master Skywalker will take us there once the mission is done."   
  
It was as if a cloud had passed over the suns. Chyna's smile faded, and she stared distantly at the horizon. Gabriel felt his own grin vanish. Why did she have to be like this whenever Luke was mentioned?   
  
"Chyna," he said quietly, "Master Skywalker will come back. You will see."   
  
"I just hope nothing's happened to him," she replied in a strained voice.   
  
Gabriel's guts tightened. He'd been part of the Jedi Order for nine months, and during that time he'd come to know Chyna as much more than just a friend. In fact, he could honestly say he loved her. But he wasn't sure if she reciprocated those feelings, especially since he had a reputation as a "ladies' man." Besides, didn't the Jedi Order forbid love? He wasn't sure if Luke was going to keep that rule, and he didn't really want to ask, because he feared the answer.   
  
But if he discovered the woman he loved had a crush on Master Skywalker, that would be far worse than knowing the New Jedi Order forbade love.   
  
"You love him, don't you?" he asked, the question coming out more sharply than he would have liked.   
  
She nodded. "He saved my life, Gabriel. Imperials were going to execute me simply for trying to make a living, and he rescued me from the spice mines and from my punishment. He gave me a new life, a reason to keep living. How could I not love him?"   
  
"Ah." That single syllable conveyed more disappointment than any words in any language could.   
  
"Gabriel? Are you okay?"   
  
He couldn't bring himself to look at her. "Oui, yes," he said with a forced lightness.   
  
She pressed her slender hand into his. "Your thoughts betray you, friend. Are you jealous?"   
  
He forced up a mind shield against her probing. "Why do you ask?"   
  
She laughed. "It's not like that. Really. Luke's like a father to me. I love him, but not romantically. You, on the other hand..."   
  
His heart leaped into his throat.   
  
"...are the most self-centered, flamboyant, flirtatious, geekdom-personified man I have ever met!"   
  
"Why, merci!" he grinned. "You flatter me, Chyna."   
  
"And you're an endless optimistic, too. You've been a wonderful friend, and I love you."   
  
"Are we allowed to love?" he asked. "It was forbidden in the old Order."   
  
She shrugged. "If it were banned now, Master Skywalker would have surely told us."   
  
His grin threatened to tear his cheek muscles. "Chyna Skleric, I love you."   
  
"Gabriel DeBour, I love you too."   
  
She took his hands in hers, rubbing his palms with her thumbs. He stared into her eyes, eyes the pale blue-gray of the sky on a slightly overcast day, or the feathers of a blue jay, or pale blue topaz. Never before had he realized just how beautiful a simple, humble, unassuming color like blue-gray could be...   
  
It wasn't until her lips were actually on his that he realized how close she was. His mind seemed to freeze up at the contact. Despite being such an attraction for girls, he'd never actually kissed one on the lips before. What was he supposed to do? Close his eyes? Keep his mouth open or shut? And how in the galaxy were you supposed to breathe?   
  
But eventually even those frantic thoughts dissolved as he put an arm around Chyna and drew her closer, relishing the feel of her against him, her soft mouth, her slim wiry frame, her shining black hair...   
  
The insistent hooting finally caught his attention, and the two of them broke off the kiss and turned. A smuggler ring that had recently joined the refugees was looking on and quite enthusiastically cheering them on. Korie, Xna, and Hekku laughed good-naturedly in their direction, and the Tusken and Zabrak children were covering their eyes and making retching sounds.   
  
"Excuse me, but can a Jedi get a little privacy here?" demanded Chyna. She grabbed a corner of her robe and held it up to form an impromptu curtain between them and the crowd. "Now where were we?"   
  
He smiled like an idiot. "Kissing?"   
  
"Well?" she said mock-crossly. "Aren't you going to kiss me again?"   
  
He was only too happy to oblige, ignoring the disappointed chorus of booing.   
  
"WHAT?!"   
  
Krad's bellow was accompanied by a hard impact in the air, one that was felt even in the next room, where Fangs, Dodger, and Blade were playing a board game. The game pieces danced and trembled like pebbled in a sieve. The troopers cringed, expecting more to happen, but when all remained still they began repairing the disarranged board.   
  
"Damn, I forget how many houses I had on Boardwalk," Blade hissed.   
  
"This reminds me of when Vader got angry," said Fangs, restacking the bills in neat piles.   
  
"No, when Vader got pissed off, officers dropped dead," Dodger corrected. "When Krad's temper blows, stuff flies everywhere. There's a difference."   
  
"I think I prefer the officers dropping dead," grumped Blade as another blast of the Force upended the table.   
  
"What do you mean he left Mos Eisley?!" they heard Krad demand of the newly returned Mandalorian he called Jodo Kast.   
  
"That's exactly what I mean," Kast replied calmly. "One of our Order, code-name Jaws, and his party came across him leaving the city by swoop bike. They attempted to capture him but were attacked by a sarlaac and failed. He was heading southwest, into the Jundland Wastes. Alone."   
  
"Your comrade disappoints me, Kast," Krad snarled. "I want the son of Vader."   
  
"You'll have him. Without his Padawan whelps tagging along he'll be much easier to capture."   
  
A thoughtful silence. "What's in the Jundland Wastes that would be of use to Skywalker?"   
  
"A wizard named Ben once lived out there," Kast offered, "but he hasn't been seen in years. The only other point of interest is Madman's Crown."   
  
"Oh? Describe it. Anything called Madman's Crown must be intriguing."   
  
"Madman's Crown is a circle of mountains deep in the desert. No one sane goes near them, for anyone who enters the Crown risks never coming back out. Even the Tusken Raiders avoid it like a black hole. A few pirates went in there to disprove the rumors, and no one's heard from them since."   
  
Krad gave a contemplative croon. "Evidently he hopes to find something there to defeat us. We could beat him there and set a trap for him. Or..." He was silent a moment.   
  
"Please don't leave me in suspense, boss," protested Kast. "My men and I can't help you if you don't give us information."   
  
"Oh, you'll have it. But this calls for a change of plans. Dispatch the remainder of your men to the Dune Sea, just outside what's left of Anchorhead. The pirates will join you there. I'll call on you when the time is right."   
  
Blade spat. "He's relying on pirates? What are we, chopped gundark bait?"   
  
"We're stormtroopers," Fangs replied. "We're also loyal to the Skywalker family, and he knows he can't fully trust us."   
  
"Does Luke know this git's plotting against him?" asked Dodger.   
  
"Come off it!" Blade exclaimed. "You know as well as I do Luke didn't send him! And he ain't one of Luke's trainees either -- he's too experienced using the Force. I'm betting he offed Admiral Piett himself so he could have himself a Stardestroyer to nuke Master Skywalker! Pity." He turned to spit again. "Piett was the best Admiral in years. We'll miss him."   
  
"We don't know he's dead yet, do we?" Fangs pointed out.   
  
"Shouldn't we warn someone?" asked Dodger.   
  
"One, we're dumb stormies and who's gonna believe us?" Blade shot back, ticking off the points on his fingers. "Two, Destroyer-boy's probably monitoring and/or jamming all communications to and from this wreck. Three, the Republic Senate's slower than mud acting on any crisis and they hate Anakin's guts, so contacting them's useless. Four, we don't know how to contact Luke. Five, we're dumb stormies and who's gonna believe us? And six, Anakin's banished to Earth and can't do squat, so calling him won't help."   
  
"You said the dumb stormie bit twice," Dodger pointed out.   
  
"Oh, stuff it where the sun don't shine," Blade snapped.   
  
"He's coming!" Fangs hissed.   
  
Hurriedly the three of them righted the table, kicked the game board and pieces under the bulkhead, and stood at attention as Krad stalked past. He paused to address them.   
  
"You have been most helpful, Fangs," he said smoothly. "But I must ask one more thing of you."   
  
"Yes, sir?"   
  
"Inform all troops and crew that all but the most vital personnel are to report to the barracks. No one will be allowed to leave them without my consent. Before you go there yourself, tell the hyperdrive operators to set their course for Tatooine."   
  
"Yes, sir."   
  
Dodger snickered. "Sit, Fangs!" he giggled. "Stay, Fangs! Good boy!"   
  
"Shut up before I deck you," Fangs shot back. "Stang, I'll be glad when this is over and I can get my number back."   
  
Once he'd completed his assignment he entered the barracks. Confused-looking soldiers and crew members of all types milled about and chattered amongst themselves -- stormtroopers, sandtroopers, scouttroopers, snowtroopers, steath troopers, TIE pilots, AT- AT pilots, AT-ST pilots, officers, technicians, janitorial staff, mechanics, mess hall staff, even astromech and MSE droids. As Fangs turned to shut the door, he caught a disturbing fragment of conversation between a Mandalorian and a Klatoonian pirate:   
  
"Master Destroyer's orders. Lock and guard the doors at all times. No one's allowed out..."   
  
The door slammed shut as if cutting off all Fangs' hopes of doing something to halt this madness. Even hearing Dodger crank up a stereo playing Counting Crows' "Big Yellow Taxi" didn't cheer him. All his life he'd blindly followed orders, often not knowing the purpose of his actions until much later. Now, when he knew exactly what foe they faced and how to stop him, he was helpless to fight. 


	11. Illusions

Chapter XI - Illusions  
  
Anakin collapsed into a chair and reached up to rub his eyes, only to find the blasted mask in the way. He was exhausted, for these days he didn't sleep well. With managing the garage and training Luke's Padawans taking up most of each day, he had little time to consider what was transpiring on his homeworld. Nights, however, he would be kept awake by his concern for his son, the eerie visions the children kept having, and the struggle to find the link between the son of Zorn's lust for revenge and his assault on Tatooine. When he did sleep, it was a fitful slumber wracked with shapeless, foreboding dreams.   
  
He wished Artoo and Threepio were around. The droids were always an odd sort of comfort to him, since it seemed that nowadays he got along better with machines than with people. But Han and Leia had left them and Chewbacca with the Elite's former second-in-command turned freighter pilot Sparky before going off on their honeymoon, and they were probably halfway across the galaxy right now. If Chewie and Artoo hadn't already ganged up on the whining protocol droid and ripped off his arms, that was.   
  
Austin and Liberty were usually good company too, even late at night. But having only gotten back from Florida that night, they needed time to recover. That struck him as ironic -- needing a vacation from a vacation. He wouldn't know, as it had been so long since he'd actually taken one.   
  
He glanced at the clock -- nearly three AM. Well, as long as he wasn't going to get any sleep he may as well do something constructive. He turned his attention to the stack of fan mail on the kitchen table that he could never quite get to the bottom of.   
  
The first four or five letters were the usual requests for autographs from "your #1 fan." He addressed several manila envelopes and slipped a signed photograph into each, including a handwritten comment -- he detested form letters, even if individual replies took longer. Stamping the envelopes, he put them in his pack to drop off at the post office in the morning.   
  
The next letter came from an irate (but anonymous, of course) sender whose mail was postmarked "Toronto, Canada." The sender demanded to know why Anakin dared show his face anywhere in public after all he had done. Anakin considered writing a tongue-in- cheek reply about how he hadn't shown his face in public in twenty-five years, but in the end he simply consigned the letter to his round file.   
  
A Korean fan had sent a rather lovely pen-and-ink drawing of him, saber drawn and held in a battle stance, his cloak flared as if caught in a sudden wind. After writing a heartfelt thank-you, he mounted the picture on his wall, giving it a place of honor above the stereo.   
  
It was the next letter that made him pause awhile:   
  
"Dear Anakin Skywalker, I'll be a junior this fall at Theodore Roosevelt High School, and our Language Arts summer-school course is currently studying 'The Scarlet Letter,' a novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Our assignment is to do a project that connects the book to our present-day lives. I decided to write an essay comparing the book's heroine, Hester Prynn, with a well-known figure. As that figure I selected you, and am writing for some information.   
  
"Have you read 'The Scarlet Letter?' If not, I have also enclosed a brief summary of the book. I thought you might find some connection to Hester, who is forced to wear a scarlet A on her dress as a permanent reminder of her sin as an adulteress. As you wear the life-support armor of Darth Vader, and most people connect that mask with the Dark Lord, it is, in a way, your scarlet letter.   
  
"I hope I haven't offended you in any way, and I was wondering if you could offer a little insight on the subject. If you could reply by June 21st, I'd be most grateful. Thanks in advance. Sincerely, Autumn Taylor -- Mesa, AZ."   
  
He mused over these words a long time. Then he got out a fresh piece of paper and began writing a reply.   
  
"Dear Miss Taylor, It is not often that I receive a letter that touches on what has become my greatest challenge of my tenure on your world. Do not worry; I did not find it offensive. Rather, I was most touched that you recognized the burden I now carry due to my actions as Darth Vader.   
  
"You are correct in assuming that I have not read Mr. Hawthorne's novel, though the summary you included was quite thorough. I must investigate the complete work when I next have the opportunity. In the meantime, I would be most glad to offer a few insights regarding your project.   
  
"I can imagine Hester Prynn went through horrendous persecution. I, too, have dealt with death threats and condemnation. But I hope your class, in studying the book, touches on a central point to Hester's, mine, and everyone else's wrongdoings -- the will to overcome them. Some feel that when they have caused harm, there is no chance of redemption. But part of breaking free of the sin is in recognizing that redemption is possible. Simply because Hester is regarded as an adulteress does not mean she must continue in her adultery. Simply because my mask labels me to all the galaxy as a Sith Lord does not mean I must remain one. We can overcome our crimes, and in proving we have reformed we can also overcome the stigmata accompanying them.   
  
"It will be years yet before I can be rid of the armor of Vader. But until then, I will continue to live not as my mask labels me, but as I am beneath it. May you, Autumn, also live not as others see you, but as you are.   
  
"I hope I have been of help to you, and that you do well on your assignment. May the Force be with you. Sincerely, Anakin Skywalker -- Star City, CO."   
  
Once that letter was ready for mailing, he flicked off the light and retired for the night, sleeping better than he had in two weeks.   
  
Luke gingerly dropped the last body into the ravine, being careful not to disturb the remains any more than necessary. From the look of it, these unfortunate six had been dead for nearly a month, and desert scavengers had pretty much cleaned off the bones. All that remained on the skeletons were decaying tendons and shredded garments. The latter of these proved the deceased's origins -- the Kruvexian crest was still intact on each.   
  
He gave a solemn bow to the makeshift grave and walked on up the rocky slope. Despite knowing they had been enemies, he felt nothing but reverence for the bodies he'd found. In a way he was thankful for them, for they were a warning to proceed with caution.   
  
It was the sixth day of his journey, and he was nearly within the heart of Madman's Crown. Aside from the pirates and sarlaac, he had also encountered wild massifs, packs of womp rats, irritated rontos, and a very lost-looking reek someone had evidently transported to Tatooine for some unknown purpose. He was exhausted, both battle-weary and travel-weary, and his robes were in rags. A set of claw marks in his left calf muscle, inflicted by a womp rat during one skirmish, throbbed and stung despite the bacta wraps. He was sunburned, sticky, tired, and running low on supplies. The end of his journey would be a welcome sight.   
  
He paused and felt around with the Force to see if the Dragon was indeed nearby. Her aura confirmed it, and he hauled himself over the last rise, not knowing quite what to expect.   
  
Madman's Crown sheltered a bowl-shaped valley roughly the size of Star City. Within the circling peaks was the Tatooine equivalent of an oasis in the desert. Herds of banthas, dewbacks, rontos, and eopies grazed on the lichens, cacti, and desert scrub that grew plentifully on the valley floor. Magnificent rock formations dotted the landscape, and on the end of the valley opposite him glistened a small crescent-shaped pond, probably fed by an underground spring. Tucked away beneath a ledge near this lake was a stone hut not dissimilar from the one he'd lived in at Anchorhead.   
  
Luke smothered a skeptical laugh. This was the abode of the feared and awesome Dragon? He began his descent into the valley, but his foot slipped on a patch of gravel and he ended up sliding most of the way down, landing hard on his backside next to a grazing dewback. The reptile looked up from its feeding, regarded him curiously, then returned to scraping lichens off a rock with its tongue.   
  
He picked himself up and took a walk. The beasts pretty much ignored him, though a bantha calf trailed him playfully for awhile before its mother called it back with a stern honk. This must be a resting spot for the herds before they moved on, Luke theorized. It seemed implausible that they would actually live here.   
  
He sidestepped to get around a snoring dewback -- and spotted someone. A woman, apparently human, sitting on a squarish boulder and offering a handful of cactus fruit to a young ronto. Her back was to him, so most likely she wasn't aware he was there. Was this another visitor to the valley? If so, why hadn't the Dragon confronted her? One intruder she might tolerate, but two...   
  
The ronto calf looked up at him, its lips stained crimson from the cactus fruit. It bleated and thumped away, and the woman turned to see what had scared the creature off.   
  
Luke gasped.   
  
The woman's eyes widened. "Luke? Is that you?"   
  
He was suddenly aware he was gaping, and he snapped his mouth shut. "Aunt Beru? What are you..."   
  
She smiled, her familiar grin adding new creases to her aged face. "Oh, Luke," she said lovingly. "It's been so long, hasn't it?" She stood and moved forward to embrace him. "My, how you've grown up!"   
  
He backed away, shaking his head, trying to jolt himself out of what must surely be a dream. This wasn't his aunt! She was dead -- he'd seen her corpse himself. But if this wasn't Aunt Beru, who was she, with Beru's simply styled salt-and-pepper hair, Beru's worn blue jacket, and Beru's easy loving smile? Was this a vision? A delirious hallucination? A trap set by the son of Zorn?   
  
A hideous screech filled the air, and in a panic the animals of the valley bolted in all directions. Down the side of the mountain scrambled a krayt dragon, grinning savagely, eyes afire with hunger. It spotted the two humans and howled a hunting call, charging.   
  
Luke ignited his saber. Whoever this woman was, it was his duty as a Jedi to protect her.   
  
"Luke, run!" she urged him, grabbing his arm and trying to push him along. "Save yourself!"   
  
"I won't leave you to be eaten," he told her, looking her in the eye.   
  
"But why? I'm just an old woman, even if I am your aunt. I'm not worth your life!"   
  
"You're not my aunt," Luke replied. A slow grin of realization spread across his face. "And you're not an old woman either."   
  
The terrified look left her face, to be replaced with a calculating expression. "Then who am I, Luke? Answer me that."   
  
"Simple," he replied. "You're the Dragon."   
  
The krayt dragon was right before them, snapping its jaws and showering them with slaver. Luke waited until its head darted down for the kill, then gave it a swipe across the nose -- not a serious injury, but a painful one that would hopefully drive it away.   
  
His blow didn't have the intended effect. When the saber connected the dragon's image wavered, as if it were a reflection in a pool that had just been disturbed. By the time he'd completed the swing, there was only air and dust where the beast had been.   
  
The creatures of the valley were still a moment, then went back to their grazing and resting as if to say "Weren't we stupid to be afraid?"   
  
A laugh came from behind Luke, a laugh nothing like Beru's, but a low, liquid chuckle. The voice that followed was likewise deep but still musical and feminine.   
  
"Well done, Master Jedi. You have passed my test."   
  
He whirled.   
  
Where there had once been the impostor Beru, there now stood a female Tusken Raider, about a handspan shorter than he and regarding him with an inspector's precision. Her customary veil was snowy white and trimmed in gold, with a decorative golden fringe at the edges. Her robes were also white with gold trimming, and her body wrappings, though gray with wear, were interspersed with bands of snakeskin much like a Tusken chief's. Around her neck she wore a chain of dragon teeth that carried a jappor pendant set with a violet krayt dragon gem. Her gloved hands were held steepled before her, fingertips down.   
  
"My hero," she crooned. "Totally unnecessary, but its the thought that counts." She nodded once in satisfaction. "I am impressed." 


	12. The Dragon's Tale

Chapter XII - The Dragon's Tale  
  
Luke deactivated his weapon but held it at his side, wary. "Is this truly the Dragon, then? Or another illusion?"   
  
She gave her liquid chuckle again. "Matter is an illusion, Master Jedi. We are luminous beings, not this crude flesh and blood and bone." She reached out and touched his breastbone. "Just as this body is the illusion you put forth, this is the illusion I wear." She gestured to herself.   
  
"A simple yes or no would have sufficed," he replied.   
  
"When you have seen as much as I have, Skywalker, you will learn that answers are rarely as simple as yes or no." She sat back down. "You are right, however, in saying I am the one the Tuskens like to call the Dragon."   
  
"I'm Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight." He clipped his saber to his belt. "But you knew that already, I suppose."   
  
She nodded. "I have been awaiting your presence, Skywalker. It has been many years since I have had the privilege of meeting a Jedi."   
  
"The Jedi Order was destroyed," Luke explained. "Only two survived..."   
  
"Yes, I know," she said dismissively. "Tatooine may be one parsec beyond nowhere, and Sandpeople have a reputation for being primitive savages, but I know what goes on beyond my valley."   
  
"Then you know of the New Republic?"   
  
"I do."   
  
"And the New Jedi Order?"   
  
"Indeed."   
  
"What of the siege on Tatooine?"   
  
She cocked her head. "Now that is news to me."   
  
"That's why I'm here. Pirates have..."   
  
She raised a hand to silence him. "Master Skywalker has a story to tell, I see. And I am most anxious to hear it. But I also sense you wish to know a little about me, am I wrong?"   
  
He hesitated. "Actually, you're right. There aren't many Force-strong Tuskens wandering this planet, and I was curious as to how one ended up in Madman's Crown."   
  
"And I also sense you are injured and tired, and could use a meal and a good washing," she added. "We shall see to your hunger and wounds first, then we shall exchange information. A story for a story. A deal?"   
  
"Sounds fair."   
  
She stood. "Come with me."   
  
The inside of the Dragon's home reminded him of Obi-wan's house -- few decorations, yet an atmosphere of peace and comfort. It was like Yoda's house, however, in that there seemed to be as many animals inside the house as outside. He had to pluck several small lizards and a brown-banded snake off a chair before he could seat himself.   
  
"It is a welcome respite to have a guest," the Dragon told him, collecting an assortment of jars from a shelf high over the fireplace. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."   
  
"Why are there so many herd animals outside?" he asked.   
  
"I have a fondness for the lesser creatures," she replied. "And they, in turn, are fond of me. Oh, they are free to come and go as they please, but most find it safer in the Crown." She bent down and slapped a small rodent away from the cooking pot. "No, not for you, you little thief! Go outside and forage for seeds!"   
  
"Fond of them, eh?" Luke chuckled.   
  
She snorted, depositing the jars roughly on the table and sitting down. "Just because I am fond of them doesn't mean they can poke their noses in the cooking pot." She popped the top off a glass container and looked inside. "Low on chakroot. I'll have to pick some up next time I go to Mos Eisley."   
  
"You go into town?"   
  
"You saw me outside," she replied. "Illusion is a Force art I have mastered. I can enter a human settlement without drawing attention if I wish." She sprinkled ingredients in an earthenware bowl from an assortment of clay, stone, and offworld-made containers, then took a pestle and began grinding the mixture. Occasionally she would pause to add some water from a cistern on the table or a touch more of some needed herb.   
  
"What are you making?"   
  
"Something for that wound of yours." She put her face to the bowl and inhaled. "Done. This may sting when I put it on, but it will cleanse the injury and help it heal. If you will allow me to see it..."   
  
He rolled up his pant leg and peeled off the bacta wrap. She hissed in sympathy when the ugly wounds were revealed. Luke winced himself upon seeing them. In spite of cleaning them and applying a generous amount of bacta, they were beginning to ooze and smell.   
  
"Rats, eh? Nasty. Their claws leave infections that don't abate easily, even with bacta." She wet a cloth and began to carefully clean the gashes.   
  
"You speak Basic very well," he told her. "How did you -- ow! -- learn to speak it?"   
  
"Part of my story, Skywalker," she replied. "But a story for a story was the deal. Tell me yours first, then we shall hear mine."   
  
So he told her about himself as she slathered the salve on his leg and rebandaged it. About how he had grown up on Tatooine before his aunt and uncle's death. How he was the first Jedi of the New Jedi Order. How he and his older students had come to Tatooine to see about the pirate scourge. How the Mandalorians and the son of a murdered Jedi were somehow involved. How a Basic-speaking Tusken Raider had informed them of her and suggested they see her.   
  
"So you are here to ask me to help you."   
  
"We can use all the help we can get, especially since our foe is a dark side user."   
  
She shrugged. "The offworlders are not my people. The Sandpeople consider me a witch and will not have me among them. And I have already repelled a pirate attack on the Crown. Why should I get involved if these invaders aren't a threat to me?"   
  
"Something that threatens the humans and Sandpeople is also a threat to the Crown," Luke replied. "Though you may not think it, you and the creatures in your domain live in symbiosis with the rest of the planet. What happens to one will affect the other. You must understand that."   
  
"I do. But of what use is one Force-using Tusken against an army of technologically superior pirates?"   
  
"A single proton torpedo destroyed the Death Star. A single repentant Sith overthrew the Empire. Just as a single drop of water raises the level in a pitcher, one person can make all the difference between victory and defeat."   
  
"You said this leader wanted revenge," she pointed out. "Why not give him what he wants -- his mother's killer? Once his hunger for retribution is sated, he may depart."   
  
He didn't wish to tell her the identity of the killer. Instead he said "Once the urge to kill is engrained in you, it isn't easily removed. Even if the leader got what he wanted, I doubt it would end the carnage."   
  
She looked at him, and though her face was hidden from view, he could tell there was a knowing expression there.   
  
"You hide something, Skywalker."   
  
He put up a mind shield. "We all hide secrets from others, Dragon. It's called privacy."   
  
"It's called deceit," she corrected. "We all practice it in one form or another. And your mind shield, strong though it is, is too late. I have been watching your thoughts since you arrived in the Crown."   
  
Startled, he bit back a retort.   
  
"How else could I have known what your Aunt Beru looked like?" she pointed out. Folding her hands over her stomach, she continued. "Your father, Anakin Skywalker, was once known as Darth Vader. Formerly a Sith, he is the one who killed the pirate leader's mother. I can understand how reluctant you are to give him over. Not that I fault you."   
  
"What else do you know?" he asked hesitantly.   
  
She shook her head, the golden fringe on her veil dancing in the firelight. "Only those thoughts are foremost. The rest are buried deep."   
  
He relaxed. At least she wouldn't see that his father had... he hurriedly squelched that thought.   
  
"I know your story now," she said at last, going to the cooking fire and spooning out some stew. "Now you shall hear mine."   
  
It was the third moon of the season, not long before the storms, when my family died. I was not yet born, but through Force-meditation I have learned all that transpired then.   
  
My mother could sense the time of my birth was near and alerted my father. As was custom our family -- mother and father, two adult brothers with their mates and children, an adult sister and her mate, three child brothers, and my grandfather -- departed from the tribe so my mother could give birth. The tribal healer and a party of warriors accompanied us to ensure nothing went wrong.   
  
The warriors were supposed to guard my mother, but some of them grew bored when it became clear I would not be born for some time. A few of them wandered off, coming back with an offworlder captive. They were boasting of having beaten off an army of farmers who had chased them to get the woman back, and they wanted to kill her slowly as a lesson to all "starmen," as the Tuskens called them.   
  
My father argued with them for hours, telling them such an action would bring evil upon me and suggesting they simply leave her in the desert somewhere. The men fought back, saying she would only walk back to a settlement and it was best to show the starmen what happened to intruders in the Jundland Wastes. Finally my father gave in, telling them to perform the deed at the edge of camp, away from the birthing tent.   
  
Almost a moon passed. The healer told my mother not to fear, for some babies were born late. But everyone worried for me and wondered if the spirits were invoking punishment on me for the pains of the offworlder. They had not heard her screams for some time and feared vengeance would come upon us in some form.   
  
Finally the day came when the birthing-pains started, and my family rejoiced. I was to enter the world at last! Even the warriors ceased their punishing long enough to await my birth, for a death of any sort on a birthing day can bring a curse on the new child.   
  
Then he came -- the starman from the cliffs, silent as a shadow, deadly as a sand viper. Unseen he slipped through the camp like a predator, past the guards, past the massifs even. It wasn't until he'd beheaded two warriors that anyone realized he was in our midst.   
  
My eldest brother was the first to attack the offworlder, only to fall under his lightsaber. A Jedi -- at least, he had the sword and powers of one. But his anger was like that of the savage winds of the sandstorms, lusting to strip the life from all our bodies.   
  
My father told my mother and the healer to run back to the tribe and sent two warriors to help us back. But the wrath of the Jedi overwhelmed them, killing the healer and warriors and badly wounding my mother. In the end my father and grandfather distracted him, giving their lives to save her, and she escaped.   
  
Wracked in the birth-pain she staggered into the tribal encampment, wounded and crying, waking everyone with her screams. She was able to tell them what had happened before the pain became too much for her. The tribe's women attempted to save her, but the healer was dead, the healer's daughter inexperienced, and in the end she died giving birth to me. With her final breath she named me -- S'kina, she-dragon.   
  
Some in the tribe didn't want me to live among them, saying I was cursed for being born amidst such carnage. But the chief and shaman declared that my birth among the deaths was a good omen, and he adopted me as his own, becoming my almost-father.   
  
After a time the tribe forgot my past, or at least became willing to tolerate it. I was quite unaware of the violent circumstances surrounding my birth and so lived a fairly normal Tusken childhood. I say fairly because, as almost-daughter of the shaman, I was regarded as having power over the desert spirits. And they were right, in a sense.   
  
Even at the tender age of five seasons I could sense things as or before they happened. Soon the others were coming to me rather than the chief for answers -- hunters for the location of the dewback and eopie herds, guards for the probable time of an enemy attack, women for the gender of their unborn babies. Some joked that my almost-father was training me too well and he'd be out of a job soon. But my power only worried the chief, for he had yet to teach me the ways of the spirits. For the first time, he wondered if I was cursed after all.   
  
Then, one night, I awoke screaming from a nightmare that made me wet my pallet with terror. I had dreamt of an army of starmen, wearing shining white armor, carrying weapons that spouted scarlet fire, and led by a huge man in black armor with a voice like summer thunder and a hideous command of powers beyond understanding. My almost- father comforted me, saying that sometimes the spirits brought dreams that had little pertinent meaning or concerned events occurring too far away to touch us. Reassured by his words, I fell asleep in his arms.   
  
We awoke the next day to cries of mourning. A hunting party of twelve of our strongest men had gone out into Beggar's Canyon with hopes of waylaying a landspeeder for supplies. Only two returned, one gravely wounded. They had ambushed a speeder, only to find it full of white-armored starman warriors. They had never seen anything equal to them -- fearless, ruthless, taking orders from their leader without question. And that leader, encased in black from skeletal face to armored boots, carried a sword of red light and had the ability to kill with the flick of a finger.   
  
The tribe was in an uproar, considering this to be somehow my fault, as if it had been I who had wielded that scarlet saber. My almost-father told the tribe that was nonsense, the stuff of baseless rumors. But some of the tribe wanted me killed. They theorized that, as I survived the slaughter the Jedi had unleashed six seasons ago, only my blood could sate the spirits.   
  
That night, my almost-father took me aside and told me of my past. He confided in me that I had a power he couldn't understand, that even the spirits couldn't describe. He also said there was one, a Jedi, who lived in the Jundland Wastes who could probably help me control my power. In the morning, he said, we would go to him. Then he embraced me and put me to bed, telling me all would be set right tomorrow.   
  
Even shamans can be wrong, I suppose. In the morning I went to my almost-father's bed and tried to wake him, only to find him still and cold. His heart had given out in the night.   
  
I knew, even in my grief-torn six-season-old mind, that now I would never be welcome in the tribe. I gathered together some food and water, blankets, my almost-father's gaderffi, any supplies I thought I would need, and set off to find the Jedi. No one stopped me, for they had yet to find the chief's body. Indeed, I suppose they were glad to see me go.   
  
In the end, it was Obi-wan Kenobi who found me, dying of thirst in the Wastes. For several seasons I lived with him, learning that my power was the Force, that the Jedi wielded it too, and that the black-armored one was an evil man who had destroyed almost all of the Jedi. I learned to control my power, use the Force, let it flow through me. I thought of Master Kenobi quite fondly, like an uncle, even though he was a starman.   
  
But I knew my destiny lay along a different path from his. I had my place on Tatooine, while his fate lay in the boy Skywalker. So one day we bid each other goodbye, and I came to Madman's Crown and made my home here. Obi-wan visited me often until the day before he left Tatooine to aid the Rebellion.   
  
Luke stared at the Dragon -- no, it was S'kina -- over his bowl, dumbstruck. He had known her to be a Force-user, but he'd had no idea she was connected not only to Obi- wan, but to his own father! Why hadn't Obi-wan mentioned he'd had a third student? And how would she react when she discovered... that?   
  
S'kina picked up on his thoughts almost immediately. "I loved Master Kenobi, as I suspect you did. He was a good, kind man." She looked away. "When I felt Darth Vader kill him, I wept for days."   
  
"He was a great Jedi," Luke said quietly.   
  
"Yes," she murmured. "Quite." She picked at the fringe of her robe. "He taught me the ways of the Force and the language of the offworlders, but I mastered the art of illusion on my own. It is not a... conventional means of using the Force. A pity, however, that your father killed him before I could learn how to build a lightsaber."   
  
Luke stared into his bowl, stirring the last drops of liquid around with a few chunks of meat and tubers. "My father... Anakin... told me about the Tuskens. He regrets that his encounter with them went... badly."   
  
Her voice was expressionless. "He was the Jedi, then."   
  
He nodded. "He told me that of all the things he's done, that action sickens him the most."   
  
She stood and walked to the fire, staring into the dancing flames, hands behind her back. Neither of them spoke for a long time.   
  
"S'kina," he said softly, "I'm sorry."   
  
After a moment she replied without turning. "You have no reason to be sorry, Skywalker. Children should not have to pay for the sins of their parents." She murmured something under her breath in Tusken. "As for forgiving your father," she added in Basic, "I will need some time."   
  
He stood carefully, wincing at the pain in his leg. "Forgive me for distressing you, S'kina, and thank you for your hospitality. I must go."   
  
"So soon?" she asked, turning to look at him. "When I haven't yet given you an answer?"   
  
"I have a battle to fight," he explained. "The pirates..."   
  
"Did not Master Kenobi teach you patience?"   
  
"Not for want of trying."   
  
She laughed. "It is a long journey back to Mos Eisley, my friend. Why not await my decision? Your leg will be better mended, and if I elect to help your cause we can travel together."   
  
"How long will your consideration take?"   
  
"Patience, Skywalker," she chided, wagging a finger at him. "Your Padawan learners are defending Mos Eisley. Have faith in them."   
  
He sighed. "All right, you win," he grunted, sitting back down. "What do we do in the meantime?"   
  
Even behind her veil S'kina's face seemed to light up like a child's at the prospect of a treat. "Teach me to build a lightsaber, please?" 


	13. Enemy Camp

Chapter XIII - Enemy Camp  
  
Hekku grumbled and clamped a pillow over his head to muffle the racket. He'd been up most of the night chasing a pack of pirates through Mos Eisley. Didn't he deserve some sleep?   
  
"Jedi Hekku, your Tusken amigo is here!" Ricardo shouted through the door. "He's in a panic, and we can't get him to talk Basic for us!"   
  
Reluctantly he grabbed his lightsaber and rolled out of bed. At least he was Geonosian and didn't have to waste time bothering with cumbersome clothes. If all species had exoskeletons, few people would complain about there not being enough hours in the day.   
  
The other Jedi were already heading for the bar when he stepped out of the room. Wor'arran was in a fine state, gibbering in Tusken, terror leeching from him so strongly Hekku wouldn't have been surprised if Skywalker could feel it all the way back at Madman's Crown. Xna tried to get him to hush and repeat himself in Basic, but to no avail.   
  
"What the stang's that savage babbling about?" demanded a member of the Modal Nodes.   
  
"Hang on, we'll find out," Hekku replied. He clapped a hand on Wor'arran's good arm and released a flood of the Force into him, calming him. The Tusken gave a blissful sigh and sagged into Korie's arms.   
  
/You overdid it/ Korie told him.   
  
"Well, excuse me for trying," Hekku grumped.   
  
Chyna placed her hands on Wor'arran's temples, and he snapped back to life.   
  
"Jedi! Great trouble! Scouts see pirates!"   
  
"Where?" demanded Xna.   
  
"In the Dune Sea! Hundreds! Men in armor with them -- you call Mandalorians! More come by dozens!"   
  
If Wor'arran had anything else to say, the Jedi didn't hear. They bolted from the cantina and charged down the main street. Hekku vaulted over a repulsorsled in his haste to keep up with his longer-legged companions.   
  
At last Gabriel slowed, holding up his hands to get the others to stop.   
  
"May I ask why we are all running hell-bent for the pirates?" he asked. "Should we not think of some less suicidal strategy before investigating? I, for one, would like to help Tatooine as a living Jedi and not a ghost."   
  
Korie barked in laughter. /Good point. I guess we all just panicked like Wor'arran at the news./   
  
"We'll tell the Republic troops to keep on high alert," Chyna suggested. "If the pirates attack, they can hold them off until reinforcements arrive. Tonight, we'll sneak in and check things out."   
  
The triple moons of Tatooine faintly illuminated the desert landscape, crescents of pearl in the bejeweled night sky. The five Jedi crept across the crack-riddled ground beneath the moons' watchful sentry, slipping from rock to crevice to shadow in an effort to conceal themselves. A mere half of a kilometer ahead, the cooking fires, stacked supply crates, and unmoving hulks of transports were visible. Shouts of laughter and drunken conversation further betrayed the camp's location.   
  
"They must've flunked the stealth portion of their pirate education," Chyna noted, glancing sideways at Gabriel. The two of them wore black robes and gloves, and black hoods with eye and mouth holes covered their faces, making them look decidedly roguish.   
  
Korie caught up with the two humans, panting slightly, still giving off the odor of chemicals. The Jedi had spent most of the day dyeing her fur black -- a silver Wookie was only too visible at night. Xna, too, had been liberally smeared with dark paint to avoid detection. Hekku, luckily, was dark already and needed no camouflage.   
  
Gingerly Gabriel raised his scope to scan the campsite. "From where I sit, I see about... oh, four dozen. Perhaps five. There must be more, though. They're sitting on enough supplies to feed our refugees for a month."   
  
/I'd like to know what they're doing just sitting out here, waiting to be discovered/ Korie demanded. /Something just doesn't smell right./   
  
"It's the dye," Hekku replied.   
  
"It's an expression, cricket-man," Gabriel told him.   
  
"I knew that," Hekku shot back. "Can't I kid her?"   
  
"Ssssshut up!" hissed Xna.   
  
Gabriel handed the scope to Chyna. "What do you see?"   
  
She pursed her lips as she swept her gaze across the camp. "Niktos, Klatoonians, Rodians, humans, Bothans, Sakiyans, one Wookie with a bad case of mange... and lots of Mandalorians. They've really expanded their numbers, haven't they?"   
  
"Let'ssss go in for a clossssser look," suggested Xna.   
  
"Merci, but I like my guts where they are, Xna," Gabriel replied.   
  
/We can use the Force to cloak ourselves/ Korie suggested. /A quick peek, mind. I don't fancy being caught by them either./   
  
They emerged from their hiding place and marched into camp. The pirates paid them little heed, their gazes being turned aside by gentle nudges of the Force. If one happened to brush by a Jedi, he merely assumed he or she was a fellow pirate.   
  
The rogues were obviously in high spirits tonight. Liquor and boastful stories flowed freely, and delicious aromas from cooking fires perfumed the air. Some showed off a particular valuable gained from a strike and bragged about their challenges obtaining it, while others sang boisterous songs in dreadfully off-key voices. Games of sabaac and tunes played badly on stolen musical instruments were also common.   
  
Gabriel paused, a pained expression crossing his eyes.   
  
/What is it?/ sent Korie.   
  
His gaze flickered toward a human talking animatedly with a gap-toothed Besalisk. The muscular, shaven-headed man wore a too-small sleeveless flightsuit and a belt heavy with knives and blades of all sorts, some utilitarian, others exotic. Around his neck he wore a pendant bearing the Imperial insignia, and on his upper arm was a tattoo of a skull with a sword through its eye socket.   
  
/What about him?/ she asked.   
  
/I know him/ he sent back sadly. /Nigel McDonnel, of the London England Garrison of the Fighting 501st, a stormtrooper impersonator. And a good friend./   
  
She sighed quietly. /I'm sorry./   
  
He snorted and kept walking.   
  
In the center of the camp, five figures stood near an Imperial shuttle. The first was a dingy gray-and-red astromech droid projecting a holographic image, though this was deactivated before the Jedi could get a good look at it. The second was the bounty hunter Aurra Sing, as willowy and brutal-looking as ever despite the passage of thirty years. The third was a blue-skinned Mon Calamari with yellow blotches down his face and wearing a white robe with the crest of Kruvex on either shoulder, most likely the pirate representative. The fourth, a Mandalorian with green-and-red armor similar to Boba Fett's, seemed to be the leader of his order. The fifth towered over his comrades, an imposing figure in black lizard-skin armor and a Matrix-style trench coat, with broad shoulders, a strong-jawed angular face, and lekku-like scalp appendages that hung down to his shoulders like dreadlocks.   
  
"It will be done as you say, Krad," Aurra said.   
  
"It's insane," the Mon Calamari stated firmly. "If we're caught at this, it's the firing squad for all of us."   
  
"Then we'll be sure not to be caught, Monar," the tall one the Jedi assumed was Krad said, rolling his Rs as he spoke.   
  
"It's a grand plan," the Mandalorian said with barely contained enthusiasm. "Especially since the Skywalkers have already made it necessary for Krad to kill two of my best warriors."   
  
"An eye for an eye, is it?" Aurra grinned.   
  
"For all of us," Krad said broodingly. "At last my mother can rest in peace, for soon her murder will be avenged."   
  
Chyna gave her comrades a wide-eyed look. /This is him! The leader! The son of Zorn!/   
  
"I don't like it," Monar said gravely.   
  
"Having second thoughts, are we?" Aurra hissed.   
  
"I support Krad one hundred percent!" Monar cried, watery eyes wide. "But killing a Jedi is a serious offense..."   
  
"Whereas killing a sniveling pirate is beneath me," Krad finished, flicking his claws dismissively. "Remove him from my sight, Aurra. Permanently."   
  
"No!" Monar squealed as she threw an arm around him and planted the muzzle of a blaster under his chin. "I take it back! I'll fight Skywalker..."   
  
Krad held up his hand, stopping Aurra before she could pull the trigger. He glanced in the general direction of the Jedi, brow furrowed, trying to seek them out. They held absolutely still and tried to keep their minds cloaked.   
  
A stab of the Force, magnified by some sort of telepathic backup, painfully pierced their defenses, and soon every eye in the camp was on them.   
  
"You think you can hide from a Kruvexian so easily?" Krad demanded, giving a grim smile. "And don't you think there's a reason we camped so close to Mos Eisley? And allowed the Tuskens to glimpse us so they could warn you?"   
  
"Eat bantha poodoo and die," snarled Hekku.   
  
"Ah, you have fire," he noted. "We'll see if you remain so feisty once my men are through with you." He raised his voice. "Get them! I want them alive!"   
  
The five Jedi ripped their lightsabers from their belts and activated them, drenching the surroundings in blue, green, and red-gold light. Pirates hemmed them in on all sides, their rage-twisted faces images from a nightmare.   
  
/The shuttle!/ Korie told them. /Get in there and we'll fly out!/   
  
"Good idea," Chyna acknowledged, backing toward the ship.   
  
Xna slashed with his lightsaber, slicing a stun rifle in two, then used a blast of the Force to thrust several pirates into their comrades, causing a violent tangle of bodies as they tried to sort themselves out. Emboldened by his success, he darted toward the shuttle.   
  
A Twi'leck lassoed the Ramothian's neck with a fibercord and yanked his head to the side. Hissing in protest, Xna brought his lightsaber around to sever the cord, only to scream in pain as a Mandalorian scorched his tail with a wrist flamethrower. The weapon fell from his tail, and more ropes and cords caught him at both ends as he thrashed wildly like a fish on a line. People went flying everywhere as his writhing body collided with overeager pirates, but it was clear Xna was beyond help.   
  
Korie and Hekku, meanwhile, fought together, back to back, sabers flying in a spectacular dance. They had always fought as a pair, each guarding the other's back, so as a team they were nearly invincible against a foe -- or several foes. But they were hopelessly outnumbered, and it was only a matter of time before Korie howled in pain as a blaster bolt caught her in the arm. Hekku, distracted by her cry, turned to inquire if she was all right, and a human took advantage of the moment to lunge forward and jam a stun baton into his sternum. He opened his mouth in surprise and collapsed. Soon Korie went down, screaming her rage, throwing aside pirates like so many rag dolls but in the end overwhelmed by sheer numbers.   
  
Chyna, meanwhile, was almost to the shuttle. Only Krad stood in her way.   
  
"Going somewhere?" he asked, a smirk touching the corners of his mouth.   
  
With all her might she swung her saber, only to have a bar of silver light intercept her sapphire blade. Krad grinned ferally at her and thrust upward, knocking her blow aside. She retaliated with a three-feint maneuver that ended with a slash to the hip, a move he blocked easily.   
  
"The New Jedi Order uses the classic fighting styles, I see," he said approvingly. "The Form Five triple-feint drill, one of my favorites." He stabbed toward her chest, and with a swift parry she knocked his saber upward, only for it to come down and slice through her hood, leaving a burning line down her left cheek.   
  
"Let me guess," she shot back. "Form Two parry-bypass."   
  
"I didn't think you'd know that one, youngling," he crooned. "I'll show you another." And he hammered at her with a flurry of cuts and slashes in which his weapon moved effortlessly from one hand to the other. She recognized the Form Seven cyclone and kept her guard up, waiting for the opening that usually came after the seventh or eighth cut. When he made a high slash that left his entire left side wide open for a fraction of a second, she plunged forward.   
  
A thrust of the Force knocked her backward several meters, and she landed quite roughly in a stack of crates. Dazed, she groped for her weapon, only to feel a hand grip her wrist. Someone else grabbed her other arm while another immobilized her legs. Krad smiled in triumph as he stood over her, holding her lightsaber and his gray eyes afire with delight.   
  
"I knew there was an opening in that attack," he said smoothly. "And I was counting on you taking advantage of it. Don't fear, Padawan. You and your friends will come to no harm."   
  
"Bastard," she hissed, spitting on his armor. She continued to spout names until a Force- touch on his part blacked her out.   
  
Gabriel, who had witnessed the battle but could do nothing about it, seeing as he was holding off some adversaries of his own, screamed a denial when he saw Chyna thrown down. He scowled at the Bith who was in his way, punched him in the face, and ran to help her, but Aurra Sing blocked his path. An expression of sadistic joy illuminated her cadaverous face as she ignited a scarlet lightsaber.   
  
"It's been so long since I've fought a real Jedi," she said breathlessly.   
  
"Oh, and you want the chance now?" he asked, making a low slash for her knees.   
  
"Don't get cocky, pup," she bit out as she parried the blow. "I was killing your kind back when being a Jedi meant something."   
  
He executed a complicated series of blows, hoping to tangle her up enough to make an error. When that strategy failed he opted for something simpler, bringing the saber down toward her nearly-bald head like a cleaver. She blocked the slash, of course, but missed the knee coming up to dig into her stomach. With a grunt she collapsed, and he kicked her aside to get to Chyna.   
  
Fire erupted in his shoulder, and he buckled under the pain. He looked up to see Nigel standing over him, his face expressionless, his fingers clutching the hilt of the knife that protruded from Gabriel's shoulder. He reached up to grab the man's wrist, but Nigel dragged the knife down his arm, ripping apart muscle, and he gave a hoarse cry of pain and crumpled into a fetal position.   
  
Nigel hauled him up to his knees by his injured arm and pinned his arms behind him. "I hate doing this, Gabe, I really do. But I haven't got a choice."   
  
"Oui," replied Gabriel, not quite able to suppress his sarcasm. "You're a real mate, you know that?"   
  
"I'm sorry, but we aren't geeks-in-arms anymore," Nigel countered. "We're soldiers on opposite sides of a war. Deal with it."   
  
Aurra held the point of her saber to Gabriel's throat. "Let me kill him, Krad. It's been too long. Let my blade taste Jedi blood."   
  
"No," Krad ordered, stepping into Gabriel's field of vision. "We need the Jedi alive for the plan."   
  
Gabriel had only a few seconds to digest that before the Kruvexian pulled his lightsaber from his belt and clubbed him over the head with it. 


	14. Fett's Fury

Chapter XIV - Fett's Fury  
  
S'kina had scrounged plenty of odds and ends from the Jawas over the years, so materials for her lightsaber were no problem. But the construction of one's lightsaber was no small matter. It often took a Jedi weeks to build his or her weapon, and as each day slipped by she could sense Luke was growing more and more concerned for his Padawans.   
  
Even though he never hurried her along or expressed impatience to be on with it, she apologized daily for delaying him. He told her it was no problem, that if she was going to fight with them she would need a more formidable weapon than a gaderffi, no offense.   
  
At last, almost two weeks after he'd set foot in the Crown, she twisted the last circuit into place. "There. All that is missing is the focusing crystal."   
  
"Unfortunately, that's often the hardest component to obtain," Luke replied.   
  
"Not in this case," she countered, reaching for her necklace. She yanked the pendant from the chain of teeth and carefully pried the deep purple gem loose. When a krayt dragon had wandered into the Crown several years ago, seeking an easy meal, she had slain the beast and obtained the gem from it. Though not the highest quality for making a lightsaber, it would still help form a strong, durable blade. Carefully she slid it into its proper place and covered the inner workings with smooth metal casing.   
  
"You may want to add some grips to the hilt," Luke advised. "That will make it easier to wield in battle."   
  
"I've already planned for that," she replied.   
  
He arced a blond eyebrow inquisitively.   
  
She smiled beneath her veil and, taking her gaderffi, twisted it apart. Taking her finished lightsaber, she inserted it into the handle portion of the battle-axe. Reattaching the bladed end, she held the finished weapon up for Luke to examine.   
  
"Very ingenious," he praised. "May I see it activated?"   
  
She snapped off the blade and ignited the lightsaber. A bright lavender blade sprang forth, thrumming deeply. It bathed everything around her in a soft light.   
  
"You've done well, S'kina," he told her. "Very well indeed."   
  
She inhaled deeply, marveling at the feel of the weapon in her hands, a Jedi's weapon, elegant and effective. How long she'd waited for this moment, to hold her very own light sword, to feel its hilt in her hands, to hear its hum, to smell the ozone as it came in contact with air. That moment had finally come...   
  
And now it was over. She deactivated the weapon and put it back together. Her lightsaber was finished. Luke had fulfilled his end of the bargain and would leave the Crown. She didn't know exactly how to feel about that. On the one hand, it would mean she would once again live undisturbed in her domain. On the other hand, she had grown fond of the young Jedi Master's company and didn't quite want him to leave.   
  
"Now that you're weapon is complete, I must depart," Luke told her. "Will you accompany me back to Mos Eisley and aid us in the fight to save Tatooine?"   
  
She rolled one shoulder in a shrug. "The Crown is my home. Who will tend to it while I am gone?"   
  
Luke smiled. "You're stalling."   
  
"Not stalling, only stating a fact," she snapped.   
  
"Stalling."   
  
"Am not."   
  
"Your thoughts betray you."   
  
"Fine, I am stalling," she huffed, going over to the fire to check on the progress of tonight's dinner. "The truth is, leaving the Crown means leaving my life behind. This is my home, my life. I know no other."   
  
"I understand the feeling," he replied. "Leaving my home was very hard for me. But it was only in leaving my comfort zone that I was able to test my abilities and discover my destiny as a Jedi."   
  
She took a bottle of spice down from the shelf and added a pinch to the stew. How could she tell him the other reason, the deeper, more painful one? She loved her life in Madman's Crown, but she loved Skywalker's company as well. And though she would have gladly accompanied him on his quest just to be with him, part of her recoiled at the thought. After all, those outside the Crown thought her a witch.   
  
She looked up from the cooking pot to see Luke leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the table, hands tucked behind his head, the picture of relaxation. Did he realize she was watching him? Probably not. As she bent down to tend to the fire, she let her gaze roam over him. For a human, he was remarkably good-looking. Though rather lean in the body, there was power in those limbs. His face retained a boyish quality in spite of the passing of years and addition of scars, and his incredibly blue eyes seemed to draw one's gaze in. A smile touched her lips. He was unattached, wasn't he? It surprised her that a man like him would have no wife or even a girlfriend...   
  
That thought came like a blow to the stomach. She bent industriously to the fire to keep her eyes off Luke, but it was no use. The realization that she was falling in love with Skywalker wouldn't leave. She loved him, but he didn't return the feeling. Of that she was certain. And he was human, while she was a Tusken. Their respective cultures didn't fit together any more than their pasts did.   
  
/How could I have been so stupid!/ she fumed. /Not only is he human, but he's the son of the very man who killed my family! My father's spirit would roll in his grave if he knew of my feelings!/   
  
"S'kina!" Luke's shout brought her back to reality. "You're on fire!"   
  
She glanced down to see the sleeve of her robe was indeed blazing. Swearing in her native tongue, she tried to slap the flames out.   
  
Luke was faster in reacting, grabbing the cistern of water and throwing it over her. At the shock of the cold water striking her she gave a startled cry, accidentally knocking the pitcher from his hands. The earthenware pitcher hit the floor and shattered.   
  
"I'm sorry," Luke said quickly, bending to pick up the pieces.   
  
"No, you just spooked me," she replied, also kneeling to clean up the shards of pottery. As they both bent down, their heads collided.   
  
"Ow!" he yelped, clapping both hands to his scalp.   
  
"Are you all right?"   
  
"Fine," he replied. "What about you? How's the arm?" He took her singed arm and began to roll back the sleeve.   
  
"No," she protested, trying to pull the limb away. "Showing flesh among the Tuskens is forbidden."   
  
"Even to inspect a wound?" he asked. When she didn't further protest, he unwrapped her arm and carefully examined the burn. It wasn't severe, thankfully -- even the pain had faded.   
  
"There," he said finally, rewrapping her arm. "You'll be fine, apparently."   
  
She didn't feel fine in the least. Her emotions were in a turmoil that she hadn't felt since her almost-father's death. Luke must have felt the disturbance, because concern crossed his face.   
  
"Are you okay?"   
  
"No," she sobbed, falling against him and crying. She couldn't shield her mind anymore and so let it spill out, her feelings, her desires, her fears. She hated herself for doing this to him, but she had to let him know. Even if it chased him out of the Crown -- and her life -- forever.   
  
Arms wrapped comfortingly around her. "Oh, S'kina," he breathed. "Why didn't you just tell me?"   
  
"I feared you would leave me," she moaned.   
  
He patted her back. "Yes, there's a lot I can understand about you now. You've been very lonely here. Loneliness is something I understand all too well."   
  
She pulled away from him and looked away. "You must think I'm crazy..."   
  
"I've met crazy people before, and you're not crazy. You're just a young woman who has found a young man to love. A young man who reciprocates that love."   
  
She turned to face him again. Did he mean...   
  
"I have grown very fond of you, S'kina. You're a strong, wise woman, wiser than many women your age I've met. And as I've come to know you I've realized that you have a great deal of inner strength and a steady head on your shoulders to avoid falling to the dark side through all you've been through. Such a woman as this is to be admired."   
  
"Don't just say this to make me feel better, Luke."   
  
"I say it because I love you, S'kina."   
  
"Are Jedi allowed to love? I thought it was forbidden."   
  
"In the old Order, yes, because Jedi were abusing the privilege to love and marry. Love is a powerful emotion that can bring happiness -- or sorrow and anger, if misused. If one is careful, love can enrich rather than destroy." He smiled. "In the New Order, Jedi may wed with my permission."   
  
She took his hands in hers. "It grows late, Luke. Perhaps you should stay the night. We can leave with the light."   
  
"We?"   
  
She chuckled. "We. I go with you to fight the pirates."   
  
"I'd be most glad for your company."   
  
A bright burning warmth spread throughout her body, radiating toward her limbs. She'd never felt so happy, so wonderfully content.   
  
"Um, S'kina, I thought you said..." Luke began unsurely as she reached for her veil.   
  
"Tuskens may see their mates' faces in the privacy of their tents," she murmured.   
  
"But I'm not..."   
  
She reached out and touched his lips to silence him. "Just once. A single kiss before we leave. That's all I ask."   
  
He reached forward and lifted her veil. What he saw was evidently not what he expected.   
  
She smiled and pulled him close.   
  
----------------  
  
Liz already had breakfast ready for Fett when he entered the kitchen, decked out in full armor except his helmet, which he held under his arm.   
  
"Off to work again, my dear," he said with a jaunty smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek as she walked past. "Nose to the grindstone as always."   
  
"Have fun at the office," she shot back as she readied a bottle for Naomi. "Sure the boss has big plans for you."   
  
"Oh, he's put me at the head of a big liquidation project involving a rogue Imperial warlord." He stuffed half a bagel in his mouth and washed it down with some coffee. "Gotta run, or I'll miss my carpool. Be back for supper unless I have to work overtime." He bent down to kiss Naomi, and she cooed and stuck a fist up his nose in return.   
  
"Drive safe," she told him, kissing him goodbye as he hurried out the door.   
  
She sighed and picked up Naomi, getting ready to feed her. Fett had gone on plenty of hunts during their marriage, and he'd never come back with anything worse than a broken nose. He was, quite simply, the best at what he did. But she still worried for him when he left. And today was worse, for if anything were to happen to him this time he'd leave her not only widowed but a single mother.   
  
She pushed the thought aside. She knew the risks of marrying someone with a dangerous career. She could live with it. Because she loved him.   
  
She fed Naomi and patted her back until she burped, then put her down in her playpen and started a load of laundry.   
  
"Nice baby."   
  
She bit back a startled cry and turned slightly, sliding one hand toward the blaster they kept behind the fabric softener. "Thanks. Her name's Naomi."   
  
"That's a pretty name," said the Mandalorian standing behind her, keeping his rifle trained on her. "Is it a common Earth name?"   
  
"It comes from the Bible," she replied, curling her fingers around the blaster's handle.   
  
"Interesting. You can tell me more about it on my ship."   
  
"I can tell you more about it in Hell, grubber yung," she retorted, and she quickly jammed the pistol under his chin and fired.   
  
Before the Mandalorian's corpse hit the floor she was out of the kitchen, scooping up a still-drowsy Naomi in one arm while dialing 911 with the other.   
  
"911. What's your emergency?"   
  
"I've got a dead Mandalorian in my kitchen!" she told the dispatcher. "Had to shoot him. Self-defense. I think there may be more of them."   
  
"Calm down, ma'am. Who is this?"   
  
"Liz Fett, Shale Street Apartments, Number Four."   
  
A second's worth of stunned silence. "We're sending a SWAT team. Get out if you can, lock yourself and anyone else there with you in a secure room if you can't. Can you contact your husband?"   
  
"I will once I'm off the line with you."   
  
"Do that. And try to stay calm. Help's on the way."   
  
She punched Fett's comm number into her personal unit, then held it in the crook of her neck as she stuffed the pistol in her pocket.   
  
"Miss me so soon?"   
  
"Sure do, you and your guns," she replied. "I nearly got drilled by a Mandalorian."   
  
"You're kidding."   
  
"Would I be calling on your comm if I was?"   
  
"I haven't gotten the Slave out of Area 51 yet. I'll come back and stay with you..."   
  
Two more warriors burst in the front door. Liz ducked as one fired at her, and the blast shredded through the back of the couch. She shot a few times in their direction and ducked into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door.   
  
"Damn, there's more!" she shouted, wedging a chair under the doorknob.   
  
"You have a gun?"   
  
"Pistol from the laundry room."   
  
"There's another in my undershirt drawer and a rifle in the closet. I'm hurrying, dear. Hang tight."   
  
The door imploded. Liz shielded Naomi against her chest and fired at the entering warriors. One shot charred the first Mandalorian's neck, and he tumbled backward into his comrade's arms. The second returned fire.   
  
The stun bolt caught her in the throat, and blackness engulfed her as the sounds of Naomi's cries, the Mandalorian's shouting, and Fett's screaming over the comm faded.   
  
---------  
  
By the time the Slave touched down in the apartment complex's parking lot, the entire Elite had gathered to learn of Liz's abduction. Police were everywhere gathering evidence, interrogating other tenants, and shooing away overly inquisitive crowds. Anakin stood motionless among the bedlam, watching the Firespray touch down.   
  
Fett leaped from the cockpit and charged toward the female officer who was coming to meet him.   
  
"Where's my wife?!" he demanded in a tone that was bordering on hysteria.   
  
"I'm sorry, sir," she replied. "By the time the SWAT unit got here, she was gone."   
  
"My baby?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion.   
  
"Missing also."   
  
Anakin felt nothing but pity for Fett at the news. He knew how it felt to lose one's family, and not knowing whether they were dead or alive was worse than simply learning they'd been killed. He stepped forward and extended an arm toward him in a gesture offering comfort.   
  
Fett leaned against Anakin and gave a pain-filled sob, his normally impenetrable composure crumbling. He wept for a long while, oblivious to the stares he was garnering from passerby. Anakin could feel the raw agony of his grief, the unvoiced fear, the burning rage, all boiling like a dark cauldron of witch's brew in his tortured soul.   
  
/If Fett was Force-strong, he'd be very dangerous now/ he thought. /Small wonder the Jedi feared me after Padme died. And small wonder Zorn's son is so unbalanced./   
  
Fett straightened and coughed several times. "I must go."   
  
Anakin nodded. "I understand."   
  
He turned and walked toward the Slave, his step resolute and determined. A police officer stupidly got in his way.   
  
"Sir, we're going to be needing you to come down to the station so we can gather information..."   
  
"Get -- out -- of -- my -- way," Fett growled menacingly.   
  
"Sir, we're doing all we can to locate your wife and child. In the meantime, it's best for you to remain where we can contact you..."   
  
Anakin couldn't fault Fett's reaction. The hunter grabbed the officer by the front of his jacket and slammed him into the battered side of the Slave.   
  
"If you don't get out of my way, I swear I'll break every bone in your blasted body!"   
  
He flung the cop aside and climbed into the Slave.   
  
Anakin couldn't help feeling jealous as the ship ascended, taking Fett on his quest to find and rescue his loved ones. If only he could do the same to aid and protect his son. 


	15. Krad's Landing

Chapter XV - Krad's Landing  
  
Luke had thought that, being reptiles, dewbacks would have an unpleasant smell. Most reptilian creatures did. But other than a faint burnt-bacon aroma, the dewbacks seemed to be an exception.   
  
"They're a bit slow going through sand, but on most terrain they can cover more ground than a bantha or eopie," S'kina explained. "And they can go days without food or water."   
  
"You certainly know animals," Luke marveled, patting his mount's wrinkled side as it drank deeply from the lake in preparation for the journey.   
  
S'kina shrugged modestly as she tightened the harness on her own steed. "When you have lived around them for most of your life, you pick up a few things."   
  
He smiled and finished tying a supply bag to the dewback's back. S'kina was unlike any woman he had ever met -- a wise and powerful Force-user, yet with a vulnerable side. She made him feel complete, enhanced, made a better person through her comradeship. He loved her, and it thrilled him to know she loved him in return.   
  
His one regret was that he was going to have a time of it explaining all this to his father. It wasn't as if Anakin still bore a grudge against Sandpeople, but there were still some uncomfortable feelings lingering. And as S'kina had already lost so much due to his actions... He thrust the thoughts aside. He'd figure out some means of settling all this on the way. It wasn't as if Anakin would be waiting for them at Mos Eisley. He had a while to plan how to smooth things out.   
  
"My lightsaber," she said suddenly, pawing through her pack. "I must have left it in the house. I'll be right back."   
  
"Nah, I'll get it for you," he replied, returning to the hut.   
  
Somehow a small bantha calf had found its way into the house, and it kept getting in his way as he searched. When he finally located the weapon, it was in the coils of a non- poisonous but rather aggressive snake that snapped irritably at him as he tried to reclaim the lightsaber. Finally, using the Force to calm the reptile and a hand firmly behind its head to keep it from biting him, he managed to untangle it.   
  
From outside came the howl of a Tusken battle cry, and he bolted from the house.   
  
S'kina was watching the sky and uttering a ululating wail that rang from the peaks and set their dewbacks to prancing nervously. An Imperial shuttle was settling to the valley floor, scattering the herds and flinging up clouds of dust as it touched down. Dark emanations poured from the ship, laced with a sense of bloodthirsty triumph and sadistic anticipation. Behind that seething presence he sensed the frightened yet resolute auras of his five students.   
  
"A Dark One!" S'kina shouted.   
  
"Here," Luke said, tossing her the gaderffi before igniting his own. She snapped the weapon in two and ignited the lightsaber end, keeping the bladed end ready.   
  
The landing ramp hissed open with a puff of gas, and a red-skinned black-armored Kruvexian stepped off the shuttle, flanked by Aurra Sing and Jodo Kast.   
  
"Luke Skywalker," the Kruvexian said calmly, not looking at all threatened by two drawn sabers. "At last we meet." He gave a small bow. "Krad the Destroyer, son of Jedi Knight Zorn the Swift."   
  
"Release my Padawans, Krad," Luke ordered. "They have no quarrel with you."   
  
"Patience," he replied. "All will occur in its own time. But my quarrel is not with you or your New Jedi Order, but with Darth Vader."   
  
"Darth Vader no longer exists," Luke explained.   
  
That was the wrong thing to say. Krad's gray eyes flashed in anger, and the pebbles at his feet trembled ominously.   
  
"Darth Vader lives on the planet of Earth and is the man you refer to as Father," he snarled. "He murdered my mother in cold blood. And I have no choice but to avenge her death."   
  
"You're wrong, Krad," Luke replied. "You do have a choice. You can choose to let go of your hate, or you can suffer the same fate my father did."   
  
A crack of energy slammed in the air, and the water in the lake sprayed into the air, soaking everything and everyone around it.   
  
"I'm not here to argue philosophy, Skywalker," snarled Krad. "I'm here to tell you not to interfere with what I am about to do. This must be done, and I won't have you spoiling it."   
  
"I'm afraid you can't keep me from interfering," Luke replied. "As a Jedi I'm sworn to protect fellow members of the Order."   
  
Krad gave a small smile. "Then protect those members that deserve it." He gestured sharply at Kast, who turned and entered the shuttle again. "I give you a choice, Skywalker -- your students or your father. Which is more deserving of life? And which will truly benefit your Order?"   
  
A dozen Mandalorian guards trooped out, escorting his Padawans. They were tightly cuffed, and all bore signs of struggle. Korie sent a wave of relief along the Force that their master was okay.   
  
/Stay calm/ Luke ordered. /We'll find a way out of this./   
  
"You drive a hard bargain, Krad," he said aloud. "And you seem to be rather confidant that you can carry this out. Last I heard, killing or kidnapping a Jedi carried the death sentence."   
  
"Then Darth Vader is quite deserving of that fate, isn't he?" Krad replied smugly.   
  
S'kina proceeded to step forward, clear her throat, and calmly suggest that Krad do something quite graphic with a bantha.   
  
Luke stared at her. How liberal had Obi-wan been in teaching her Basic?   
  
"Ah, a Tusken Jedi," Krad crooned, ignoring her filthy comment. "A survivor of the Purges? Perhaps she, like me, would like to see the end of the last Sith as well."   
  
"On the contrary," she replied. "What makes you think you have a monopoly on pain and suffering, Krad? You are not the only one to lose a loved one to Anakin Skywalker. You lost your mother. But Skywalker's father killed my family. He wounded my mother so that she died the moment I was born. He attacked our tribe years later, leading them to believe I carried a curse. And he murdered my Jedi Master. I have as much, if not more, reason to hate him as you. But unlike you, I have chosen to put away my hate and forgive him."   
  
Again the sand shook with a sudden fluctuation in the Force. "How can you so easily forget all he has done?! You may not care, but I do! Skywalker shall atone for his crimes in blood!"   
  
She gave another battle cry. "You'll not harm either Skywalker!"   
  
"You think you can stop me?" he taunted.   
  
She screamed and went after him, weapons raised high.   
  
"S'kina, no!" Luke shouted, but it was too late.   
  
Krad had his horn-handled lightsaber out in the blink of an eye. Violet and silver blades ground against each other with a wicked hiss, then locked as they assumed battle stances. Just as quickly S'kina brought the gaderffi blade around to strike Krad's shoulder, but he grabbed her arm in his free hand and twisted, breaking her wrist. She screamed in pain and dropped the blade. Swiftly he knocked her lightsaber out of her other hand and grabbed her around the waist, holding his own weapon to her throat.   
  
The battle had started so quickly that, by the time Luke had assumed an attack position of his own, it was over.   
  
"If you wish her dead, by all means strike," Krad hissed.   
  
"Let her go!" Luke ordered.   
  
"Krad, let me kill her," Aurra begged. "It's been too long..."   
  
"Will you get off your Jedi-killing fixation for two minutes!" demanded Kast.   
  
"You promised I could have one," Aurra went on, ignoring the Mandalorian.   
  
"No," Krad snapped. "I am altering the deal."   
  
"But..."   
  
"Pray I don't alter it any further."   
  
She curled her lip in hatred but subsided.   
  
"Let's try this again," Krad offered, holding the Tusken tightly and keeping his weapon millimeters from her neck. "Agree to not interfere when I kill Vader, or refuse and watch these six die. You have one minute, starting now, to make your choice."   
  
S'kina shook her head desperately, then whimpered in pain when Krad dug his claws into her arm. Through his Force bond with his students he could hear them tell him no, that he should do all he could to save Anakin, that their lives were inconsequential.   
  
But Luke knew, even as he agonized over the realization, that in taking that course of action, he was ultimately being selfish. He loved Anakin, but in the long run his death would affect the Jedi Order less than the death of five of his best students. If he were to let the Padawans die that his father could live, he would be as much a betrayer of the Order as Vader. And he knew Anakin would never forgive him if he found out at what price Luke had bought his life.   
  
"Forgive me, Father," Luke murmured through a tight throat, and he shut off his weapon.   
  
"Master!" cried Gabriel in shock.   
  
"If it came down to losing almost a third of the Jedi Order or losing Anakin," Luke replied with a nearly suffocating regret, "the galaxy would be better off losing Anakin."   
  
Krad laughed in triumph and flung S'kina aside. "Wise decision, Skywalker. Very wise. My mother would have been proud to call you comrade."   
  
Luke tried not to make eye contact with him as he started to go to S'kina so he could make sure she was okay.   
  
A clawed hand gripped his arm and halted him. "However," Krad went on, "since I'm not entirely sure you won't break your word..."   
  
Vision-shattering pain rampaged through Luke's mind, tearing apart his hasty defenses. He screamed as Krad's mind probe, amplified by the natural telepathic power of his species, ripped through and violated all it came in contact with. Every nerve in his body, every muscle and bone, felt on fire. The Force shrieked around him in protest.   
  
/Luke!/ came Leia's distant cry. /What's wrong?/   
  
/Master!/ his students screamed. /Hold on! Fight it!/   
  
/Luke!/ Anakin shouted. /No!/   
  
S'kina's Force-touch was an inarticulate cry of rage, grief, and love too great for words to convey.   
  
Then all went numb as he collapsed to the sands, face damp with sweat and tears, blood trickling from a corner of his mouth where he had bit through his tongue in agony. He was cold, so cold, wrapped in a freezing darkness, and he tried to tap on the Force to shunt away that dread chill...   
  
But the Force wouldn't obey. He had been stripped of its incredible powers, its guidance, its comfort, and he could only tremble in fear.   
  
As if from a vast distance he heard Chyna's anguished yell. "What did you do to him?"   
  
"He has been drained of the Force," Krad replied. "Once I'm finished with Vader, I MAY restore him. And I may not. That all depends on if you whelps behave yourselves while I'm gone. Aurra, Kast, board the shuttle. We're leaving."   
  
Arms wrapped around him, cradling him, and S'kina's melodious voice was now ragged with sobs as she murmured his name over and over, brushing his face with gloved fingers.   
  
"Get him inssssside!" ordered Xna. "Quick! Before Dessssstroyer-boy changesssss hisssss mind and deccccidesssss to kill him!"   
  
Xna's comment preceded merciful oblivion.   
  
---------  
  
Leia gasped and clutched at Han's arm as they walked through Mon Calamari's largest spaceport, toward the Falcon and their trip home.   
  
"What is it?" he asked, pulling her into a comm station to avoid the stares of passerby.   
  
"Luke," she whispered hoarsely. She'd always had a strong bond with her twin, and she could often sense his mood or condition even when far away. Now, though he was halfway across the galaxy, she knew that he was in great pain. Desperately she sought his mind, trying to discover what was wrong, but a roiling stormcloud of the dark side obscured the specifics. Suddenly the turbulence withdrew, leaving a frightening blankness.   
  
"Luke!" she screamed, collapsing against Han.   
  
"What happened?" Han demanded.   
  
"I can't feel him," she sobbed. "He's... he's gone..."   
  
Han bowed his head and grimaced in an effort to suppress his grief. He, too, shared a close friendship with Luke despite being Force-blind, and had come to regard Luke almost as a younger brother. If he had truly died...   
  
"To the Falcon," he ordered in a broken voice. "We're going to Tatooine."   
  
--------  
  
Fangs and Dodger were in the process of hotwiring the door lock of the barracks -- or at least making a bold attempt, as neither of them were particularly adept at electronic work. Blade made no move to help them, being even less knowledgeable at the subject, but saw fit to make snide comments from time to time. Everyone else watched hopefully, seeing an end to their imprisonment at last.   
  
"Nice one," Blade said sarcastically as a fountain of sparks flared out of the locking mechanism. "Didn't know you two were pyrotechnicians."   
  
"Why don't you go sit on a scanner grid if you're not gonna help?" suggested Fangs tartly.   
  
One of the stealth troopers, Mystic, suddenly clapped his hands to his helmet and gave a sharp cry.   
  
"What is it?" asked Dodger. "These two arguing gives you a migraine?"   
  
"A disturbance in the Force..." moaned Mystic.   
  
"Force?" a TIE pilot snorted. "What are you, a Jedi?"   
  
"Stealth troopers have Jedi DNA," an ensign pointed out. To Mystic he said, "What's causing it?"   
  
"I felt Luke Skywalker cry out," he explained. "He was in great agony. Then... nothing. As if a glowpanel had burnt out."   
  
"Sithspawn!" screeched Dodger, setting at his work with renewed effort. Fangs pitched in where he could. Though they were too late to save Luke, perhaps they could escape in time to save his father from a similar fate.   
  
---------  
  
"Patrick, you've been playing 'Galaxies' for two hours," complained Jason. "Will you get off the computer and let me have a turn?"   
  
"Use the other PC," Patrick mumbled, guiding his Wookie character through a Naboo swampland.   
  
"C'mon, you know it doesn't have 'Galaxies!" Jason whined. "And who bought the game in the first place?"   
  
"Just let me finish this mission."   
  
"That's what you said at six o'clock last Monday, and you were still playing at four in the frickin' morning..."   
  
"Hey, a little help here?" asked Zack, sticking his head through the doorway.   
  
"Wrangle the kiddies yourself," Jason griped.   
  
"Come on!" begged Zack. "They're crying up a storm and I can't get 'em to calm down..."   
  
"Crying?" Patrick repeated, pausing the game and standing.   
  
"You didn't make 'em watch 'Bambi,' did you?" Jason demanded.   
  
"No, they were watching 'Attack of the Clones,' and we'd just gotten to the arena scene when the Wookie gave an almighty howl and Rachel started bawling, and that got 'em all going..."   
  
Sure enough, when the brothers entered the room there wasn't a dry eye to be found -- or nose, for that matter. Jason seemed to forget his dislike of the Padawans as he knelt by the hiccuping Balosaur and helped him wipe his nose. Patrick picked up Niya and held her as she sobbed, while Zack made another round with a box of Kleenex.   
  
"Hey, kids, what's wrong?" Jason asked.   
  
"S-s-somethin' b-b-bad's happened," choked the Kaminoan.   
  
"Bad? Where?" Zack was instantly all ears.   
  
"Somethin' happened to Master Skywalker!" cried Rachel.   
  
The men froze. "Anakin?" asked Patrick.   
  
"Nuh-uh," Ressk replied.   
  
Zack gaped. "LUKE!"   
  
"Someone's gotta call Anakin and tell him!" exclaimed Jason.   
  
"I have a feeling he already knows," Jason replied balefully.   
  
--------  
  
It was like being plunged into the molten pit all over again. Unspeakable pain assailed Anakin as he was preparing dinner for himself, and with a surprised cry he fell to his knees, the plate he was holding shattering on the floor. Waves of agony tore cruelly through his body, as if someone was prying open his skull and raking claws across his mind.   
  
An equally pain-wracked scream rang across space and into his brain.   
  
"Luke!" He fell on his side and curled into a fetal position as the fire raged through him again. If he was feeling this much agony, Luke must be suffering far, far worse.   
  
Someone was pounding on the door to his apartment, calling his name. He ignored the entreaty. Not knowing what else to do, he poured all the power at his command into his son's tortured body, urging him to fight this menace, hoping it would be enough. He could feel Luke's battered mind respond, feel Leia's desperate inquiry, the children's fear, the terror of six (six?) Force-strong onlookers as they watched Luke helplessly, the perverse satisfaction of the attacker...   
  
Then a bone-numbing darkness overwhelmed Luke's presence.   
  
"NO!"   
  
Frantically Anakin tried to touch his son's mind, but there was no response. Where Luke should have been, there was only a terrifying blankness.   
  
His body shook with sobs as he wept for his son, his beloved son, his rescuer, his pride and joy, now cruelly taken from him. Something metallic-tasting ran down his throat, and it took him a moment to realize it was blood from where he had bitten through his lower lip. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Luke was dead. Dead in payment for a crime Anakin had committed. He clenched his fists and longed for death to take him, that he might see Luke again...   
  
/Anakin!/ It was Korie, touching his mind.   
  
/Leave me/ he ordered. /I know what has happened. My son is dead, and it's my fault.../   
  
/No, he lives! But the pirate leader, Krad the Destroyer, has stripped him of the Force. He's very sick from the shock./   
  
He gave a sob of relief. Luke was alive! But bereft of the Force, he was almost worse than dead.   
  
/Guard him with your lives/ he commanded. /I'm coming./   
  
/But.../   
  
He broke off the contact before she could complete the thought. Opening his eyes, he saw his apartment had become a madhouse, crammed with stealth troopers and members of the Elite. Opal and Mrs. Hendrix were hovering over him, anxious expressions on their faces.   
  
"I just heard him screaming," Opal was explaining to the landlady, close to tears. "It sounded like he was being murdered. I came in, and it looked like he was having some sort of seizure..."   
  
"Calm down, darlin'," Mrs. Hendrix told her. "We'll sort this out. Hey Mr. Skywalker, can you hear me?"   
  
"Luke's been hurt," Anakin replied, sitting up. Stars, his throat felt raw. How long had he been screaming?   
  
"Yeah, we were just about to come and tell you that," Zack said. "Pat and Jason are trying to keep the kids under control, but they felt something happen to Luke through the Force and are going hysterical..."   
  
"How badly is he hurt?" asked Emily.   
  
"Not dead, I hope," murmured Conrad.   
  
"He has been deprived of his ability to touch the Force," Anakin said, standing.   
  
Austin went white. "Awful. Just awful."   
  
Anakin turned to his landlady. "Lock up my apartment for me. I'm leaving."   
  
"Where are you..." she began. "Honey, don't tell me you're goin' after him!"   
  
"My son needs me!" Anakin said firmly, going into his bedroom. He threw together the bare essentials for the trip -- some of his medications, a medkit, Republic currency, his ID card, a blaster, car keys.   
  
"Anakin..." began Liberty when he entered the kitchen, pack over one shoulder.   
  
"Tell Jason and Patrick to keep the shop open while I'm gone," he told her.   
  
"But you're exiled!" Cody finished for her. "You can't leave our system!"   
  
He stopped at the door and sagged against the frame as crushing realization set in. By leaving for Tatooine, he would be breaking the edict set by the Jedi. If it had merely been a Republic sentence, he probably wouldn't have cared so much. But he couldn't disobey the Jedi, not after he'd been granted so generous a reprieve by them already! He was as good as chained to this planet.   
  
But his son was suffering, perhaps dying. That was all that mattered now. He had to go. He'd pay the consequences later.   
  
"I must go," he declared. "Banished or not, I must go to my son."   
  
Mrs. Hendrix turned to the two stealth troopers on her left. "Go get the guy in Apartment Eight for me, will ya?"   
  
The soldiers hesitated, not used to taking orders from civilians.   
  
"Do as she says!" Anakin snapped.   
  
The troopers bolted out the door.   
  
"We're going with you," Austin said firmly.   
  
"No," Anakin ordered. "I'm not endangering anyone needlessly."   
  
"You need all the help you can get," Brigham pointed out.   
  
"No! You will all remain on Earth. I must do this alone."   
  
Austin shook his head resignedly. "All I can say is to be very careful. The Republic is still looking for an excuse to imprison you for life, and this is the perfect opportunity for them to find one." He pressed something into Anakin's hand. "You'll need this."   
  
He looked at the lightsaber, astonished. "It's my old saber! Where did you get this?"   
  
"Luke gave it to me awhile back," Austin explained. "Said it was found when vandals destroyed and looted Palpatine's palace. Some trooper must have found it on Cloud City and given it to the Emperor as a trophy. Luke said to give it to you when I judged you would need it, and this looks like a time where you'll need it." He squeezed Anakin's shoulder. "Be careful, man. Try not to do anything stupid, okay?"   
  
"You forget you're talking to a Skywalker," Amethyst muttered. "Doing something stupid is an everyday occurrence for them."   
  
The troopers returned, dragging in a wildly protesting Vader impostor with an extremely foul mouth.   
  
"Mr. Polowski," Anakin greeted. "Good of you to join us."   
  
"Darth Polowski," he corrected. "Sith Warrior of the Sons of the Sith, who wishes to have no truck with a betrayer of the Sith Order."   
  
"Sorry, hon, but you're gonna help Skywalker here," Mrs. Hendrix said. "You're gonna live in his apartment awhile. Pretend to be him so no one will notice he's gone."   
  
Polowski laughed disdainfully. "Sorry, sister, but I don't take orders from Force-blinds."   
  
/Strange, considering you're one/ thought Anakin. Aloud he said, "You will, however, do as I say. Much is at stake here."   
  
Polowski called Anakin several names that prison inmates get beat up for repeating.   
  
"Let me put it another way." He gave a small, nearly undetectable wave. "You will remain here and keep up appearances until I get back."   
  
"I will remain here and keep up appearances until you get back," the impostor repeated in a monotone voice.   
  
"Troops, watch over this man as if he were me and don't let him leave this apartment," Anakin told the soldiers. "Mrs. Hendrix, thank you. I owe you."   
  
"Just pay your rent on time," she replied, giving him a hug.   
  
---------  
  
Sparky thought it interesting that Star City, of all places, had a spaceport while very few other cities on Earth had one. Of course, this wasn't much of a spaceport -- just a few gaps in the trees that the city charged people to park their ships in, plus a bar some brave entrepreneur had established close by. But still...   
  
"What's your haul?" a fellow freighter pilot asked him, tossing back a glass of whiskey.   
  
"Mostly X-wing parts," he told the Duros. "A few hyperdrive generators in the mix somewhere. My hands will have to sort it all out when we reach port on Nar Shadda."   
  
"You can afford hands?"   
  
"Well, they're not exactly hired help. Just two droids and a Wookie friend who's along for the ride. But they get the job done." He sipped a Coke. "What about you?"   
  
"Durasteel ore. On its way to the Udara refineries." He took a peek out the window. "That guy better watch his driving or he's gonna kill someone."   
  
Sparky looked to see a familiar red convertible shriek to a halt just outside the bar, laying down rubber the whole way. Anakin jumped out of the vehicle and strode into the establishment. The Duros' eyes went wide, and he excused himself.   
  
"Anakin?" Sparky said questioningly as the Jedi approached his table.   
  
"I need a lift to Tatooine, Sparky," he said quickly.   
  
"But you're exiled..."   
  
"I'll pay you double the standard fare. This is urgent. Luke is in serious danger..."   
  
He didn't let him finish. "I'll take you free. My ship's in the second clearing over. You'll know it, it says INCOM on the side. But what about the Executor? Can't you take it to Tatooine?"   
  
"It departed two weeks ago for an Ord Mantell shipyard. It needs repairs on its starboard sublight engines."   
  
"I see. Got a comm? I need to tell Chewie and the droids to get us ready for takeoff." 


	16. Difficult Encounters

Chapter XVI - Difficult Encounters  
  
Krad opened his eyes and smiled. Perfect. Vader was on his way. All was going according to plan.   
  
"Mind telling us what that was all about?" asked Kast.   
  
Krad turned from staring out the Executor's bridge viewports to look at Aurra and the Mandalorian leader. "Another step in the plan," he replied smoothly. "It was genius, was it not? Skywalker could not refuse giving aid to his homeworld. Getting him here was the first step. The second, acquiring his students for bargaining purposes, was rather effectively handled by your order and the pirates. I must say that having Skywalker fall in with that Tusken was unexpected, but having another hostage was an advantage. And now that he is... incapacitated, the plan is nearly complete. Not only is he out of the way and thus no threat, but Vader knows his son is injured and is coming for him. All we must do is wait."   
  
"I still think we should have just bombed all the boats at the wedding," Kast complained. "Could have taken care of it much sooner."   
  
"Too many bystanders. Besides, the Skywalkers are mechanically adept and were able to sense the detonator before it blew."   
  
"What of the pirates and your promise to them?"   
  
"Yes, I know." Krad leaned forward to the comm unit. "Monar, you have my permission to invade Mos Eisley. The city and its spoils are yours." He turned back to Kast. "As for you and your men, I have already paid your dues. You may go."   
  
"What of me?" snarled Aurra. "You said I would have a chance to cross sabers with a Jedi again."   
  
"And you did," Krad replied. "Though it would seem you've gotten a bit rusty over the years. Gabriel was quite able to defeat you."   
  
She spat at him and pulled out her lightsaber. "I should have known not to make deals with Jedi, even untrained ones."   
  
Krad glared coolly at her. "If its the chance to kill a Jedi you want..." He took his lightsaber from his belt and tossed it to Kast. "Attack me, Aurra. I am unarmed."   
  
Normally the bounty hunter might have questioned his actions, but her rage blocked out her common sense. She charged with a feral cry. Krad waited until she'd raised her weapon for the death blow, then blasted her mind with the Force. She crumpled to the floor, her brain tissue shutting down from the force of the strike.   
  
Kast took an involuntary step backward, but Krad only laughed and called his saber back into his hand. "You needn't fear, Kast. You've been nothing but helpful. She, on the other hand, pushed me too far too many times." He motioned to one of the remaining technicians on the bridge. "Get rid of the body before it starts stinking."   
  
A computer operator looked up. "Sir, ship approaching Docking Bay 4. Modified Firespray, pilot won't answer our hails."   
  
Krad looked at Kast. "Friend of yours?"   
  
"Fett. His wife and child are in one of the detention blocks. He's here to rescue them." He gripped his blaster tightly. "We've a score to settle with him."   
  
"Let him land," Krad ordered.   
  
"Yes, sir."   
  
Kast left the bridge while Krad swiveled on his heel and continued to stare out the viewport.   
  
---------  
  
The beasts of Madman's Crown were in an uproar, running helter-skelter about the valley as two ships touched down -- one a sleek INCOM freighter, the other the familiar battered ellipse of the Falcon. Before the dust had a chance to settle Anakin was on the ground and running toward the hut where sensed Luke's students were. Luke had to be with them, he reasoned. Leia and Han were right behind him.   
  
A white-robed figure emerged from the house, carrying a gaderffi.   
  
/A Tusken!/ Instinctively he activated his lightsaber. Hatred unexpectedly welled up in him, and he struggled to quash it. A torrent of memories flooded his mind and threatened to carry him away.   
  
/They're like animals!/ he heard a much younger version of himself snarl. /And I slaughtered them like animals! I hate them!/   
  
/My son... my grown-up son.../   
  
/Stay with me, Mom.../   
  
/Those Tuskens, they walk like men, but they're vicious, mindless monsters.../   
  
/I couldn't save you, Mom.../   
  
He shook his head, forcing himself to block out the destructive thoughts. They would only make him do something rash. He had to focus on the task at hand. But if he found this Tusken had had anything to do with his son's pains...   
  
The female Tusken paused when she saw him, then squatted and slid her weapon toward him. He paused and held a hand out to stop Leia and Han's advance, unsure of her intentions.   
  
"What's she doing?" asked Sparky, coming up behind in his repulsorchair.   
  
"I don't know," Anakin confessed.   
  
The Tusken straightened, gazing confidently at them. "Anakin Skywalker?"   
  
"You know me?" he asked, puzzled.   
  
"You are Luke's father," she replied, nodding.   
  
"You know my son?" He was beginning to feel like a broken holorecording.   
  
"He came here to Madman's Crown to enlist my aid in the fight against the pirates," she explained. "A fine man. You should be very proud of him." She hesitated. "I must tell you something, Anakin."   
  
"Well, don't leave him in suspense," Han advised.   
  
"I.. forgive you," she said slowly. "For the death of my family."   
  
Anakin cringed. She was a survivor of his slaughter all those years ago? He'd hoped that part of his past was dead forever. But that hope had been a foolish one, for he had known that, sooner or later, he would have to face that crime again. Slowly he thumbed off his blade and tossed it to the ground at her feet.   
  
"I apologize deeply," he told her. "There was no excuse for my actions..."   
  
"Anakin," she said firmly, raising her hand. "Please. It is the past."   
  
There was tense silence for several minutes. Neither the Jedi nor the Tusken seemed to know what to say next.   
  
"Who are you?" he asked finally.   
  
"S'kina, almost-daughter of Chief Ha'taano of the Sarlaac Tribe, student of Obi-wan Kenobi, guardian of Madman's Crown."   
  
He bowed. "I am honored. Where is my son?"   
  
"Inside." She faltered. "He... he is in a bad way. Krad hurt him... terribly..." Her voice broke.   
  
He caught the anguished thought and stiffened, startled. This Tusken woman loved his son! And Luke reciprocated that love! Did the irony of this entire situation never end? The lone survivor of his massacre was not only a Jedi, but Obi-wan's student and Luke's lover! Knowing all this, he couldn't hate S'kina. It might take years yet for him to fully shed his dislike of Sandpeople, but he couldn't hate this young woman.   
  
"Let's see to him," Anakin advised, gently putting an arm around S'kina and guiding her into the house.   
  
Xna was curled in a tight coil in the corner of the house, flicking his tongue repeatedly in agitation. Hekku and Korie sat together at the table, the Wookie moaning her distress and the Geonosian chittering comfort in his native tongue. Gabriel had his hands resting gently on Chyna's shoulders as she sat by their Master's side and wept.   
  
Anakin knelt beside the bed where Luke lay, tears pouring from his eyes. His son's face was haggard and pale, brilliant blue eyes dull and staring flatly at nothing. Gingerly he reached out and touched his face, at the same time touching his mind with the Force. He had a brief glimpse of ragged-edged darkness, of a numb emptiness, before Luke flinched in pain and jerked away from his hand.   
  
"Master Anakin, don't!" Chyna cried, grabbing his arm. "Don't hurt him!"   
  
"I'm sorry," Anakin replied. "I... had to know."   
  
Leia and Han entered, Chewie close behind. S'kina took them aside and quietly broke the news. There was a measure of relief and pain in both their eyes -- relief that Luke lived, pain that he had lost the Force.   
  
"Leave us," Anakin said quietly.   
  
Gabriel nodded. "Let's go, friends. The Skywalkers need some privacy."   
  
Reluctantly they exited the house, leaving Anakin and Luke behind.   
  
"Father?" Luke moaned, recognition flickering briefly in his eyes.   
  
/He sounds so faint, like a ghost/ he thought in anguish. "Luke?"   
  
"I'm so cold..." he whispered, then faded back into his comatose state.   
  
Anakin gathered his son in his arms and clutched him to his chest as he wished he could have done when Luke was a baby. Sobs wracked his body, fear and guilt wracked his mind. How could this have happened? Why did Luke have to suffer for Anakin's sins? Why couldn't Krad have simply left Luke out of the entire struggle?   
  
"My son," he choked. "My son... oh, Luke, I'd rather die than have this happen to you... my dear son..."   
  
"Anakin."   
  
The intruding voice was unfamiliar, but it had a strange ethereal ring to it, much as the voices of the Jedi had when they had appeared in spirit for his trial. Expecting the worst, he turned his head.   
  
A faintly glowing form, two-and-a-half meters tall and garbed in loose chocolate-brown robes, stood on the opposite side of the room. She was Kruvexian, broad-shouldered and slender-limbed, with skin the color of a newly minted penny and eyes almost the same shade of blue as Luke's. She held her clawed fingers steepled before her, and her lekku reached her waist and were held back by a durasteel headband stamped with her homeworld's royal seal.   
  
"Zorn the Swift," he murmured.   
  
The ghost gave the briefest smile before letting her gaze settle on Luke. She lowered her hands to her sides and stepped to Anakin's side to observe more closely.   
  
"Maybe we can both help him," she said quietly.   
  
"I killed you, Zorn," he protested. "I destroyed the Order and your homeworld. My actions turned your son into a dark sider. Why would you want to help me?"   
  
"Because like your son and S'kina," she stated firmly, "I have found the strength to forgive."   
  
Anakin laid Luke back down on the bed. "What can we do to restore him?"   
  
"He needs no restoring," Zorn replied. "The Force is with him. It always is and will be. You can't remove it. But you can place a barrier between him and the Force, creating the illusion that you have taken the Force away from him entirely. That is what Krad has done."   
  
"How can we remove the barrier?"   
  
"We cannot. Only the one who placed the block can do so. But Luke can find the strength to breach it, if he tries."   
  
"He can't," Anakin protested with a moan that was almost a sob. "He just lays there! He won't even respond!"   
  
"Give him time," Zorn assured him. "He must recover from the shock."   
  
"We don't have time. Krad might attack at any moment..."   
  
"No," Zorn said with such confidence that Anakin turned to stare at her. "He waits for you to come to him, Anakin. He expects you to react as Vader would -- with anger, vengeance, and hatred in your heart. You must turn those emotions away and meet him with forgiveness and understanding. You must fight the darkness with light."   
  
"Why must I go to him at all?"   
  
"Because like you, he can be saved." A pained look crossed her alien features. "When I gave birth to Krad, I wanted him to become a great Jedi. I hoped I could be as great a teacher as my Master, Plo Koon. But I failed.   
  
"I wanted to spare my son from any chance he might turn to the dark side. So when he showed any evidence of impatience, fear, or anger, I coaxed him away from such emotions. But by not allowing him to experience those feelings, I couldn't teach him why they brought on the dark side, how using the Force in anger was so wrong. When he saw me die, those feelings consumed and overwhelmed him. He couldn't know they were of the dark side. So he continues to tap into the darkness without knowing it is destroying him.   
  
"Redemption was possible for you, Anakin. It is possible for Krad as well. I ask you to go to him, but not fight him unless you must to defend yourself or an innocent. Try to cool his anger and draw him away from the dark side."   
  
Anakin nodded slowly. "After all I have done to him and you, it's the least I can do in recompense." He stood. "Where is he?"   
  
"Orbiting Tatooine on the Stardestroyer Executor."   
  
"What?! But my ship's at Ord Mantell for repairs..."   
  
"You were given that lie on Krad's orders, to cover up the ship's absence. He captured Admiral Piett and took over the ship to further his plan. Act fast, for he has ordered his pirates to destroy Mos Eisley. And remember -- do not harm him unless you absolutely have to. If you die, you become one with the Force. But a dark sider simply ceases to exist when his mortal body is slain.   
  
"I'll remember."   
  
"May the Force be with you," she said in farewell, then faded.   
  
---------  
  
Everyone outside S'kina's house stared, surprised, at Anakin as he strode out the door, heading toward the Falcon with a resolute step.   
  
"I need to borrow your ship awhile, Han."   
  
"Hey!" he protested. "What do you think you're doing?"   
  
"I must face Krad," he replied. "He has captured the Executor and is currently aboard it. Sparky, go about your business. This shouldn't involve civilians. Leia, General Solo, the pirates are preparing to take Mos Eisley. You must alert the Republic Army and stop them. Padawans, aid them. S'kina, stay here and watch after Luke."   
  
Hekku bowed. "It will be done, sir."   
  
"Except my part," S'kina stated firmly. "I go with you."   
  
"No," Anakin ordered, shaking his head. "Someone must tend to Luke."   
  
"We will take him to your ship's medical bay," she countered. "He will be better cared for there, for my herbs can do no more for him. Besides, someone has to make sure you don't hurt yourself on this jaunt."   
  
"Fine," he relented, not having time to argue. "Let's move out!" 


	17. Boba Fett vs Jodo Kast

Chapter XVII - Showdown One: Boba Fett vs. Jodo Kast  
  
Fett crept through the halls of the Executor, which were eerily vacant. In his half-hour aboard the vessel he hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of soldier, crew member, or droid. Strange, for normally this ship was bustling with activity.   
  
By tracing particle trails left by the engines of the kidnappers' ship, he'd discovered the Mandalorians had taken a sublight route to the planet of Tatooine. The craft had probably suffered damage to its hyperdrive, he theorized. He'd been surprised to discover the Executor in this system, but he thought Kast might be brazen enough to hide aboard the Stardestroyer. Besides, Anakin owned this ship, and he figured he wouldn't mind if he did a little snooping.   
  
/I'll bet this is where the Force comes in real handy/ he mused as he hacked into a promising-looking supply closet. /Just lock onto your quarry and take the shortest route there like a bloodhound.../   
  
He paused when his hand brushed over a substance he knew all too well. What would something like this be doing here? He felt around, making out a long rectangular shape, and he managed to drag the item into the hallway.   
  
"Stang it all to chaos," he swore.   
  
It was a man frozen in carbonite.   
  
Quickly Fett flipped a switch and touched some buttons on the side of the slab to unthaw him. How cruel the Mandalorians could be! If he found out they'd done this to Liz and Naomi...   
  
Admiral Piett lay in the carbonite block, gasping and trembling, sweat drenching his uniform. Fett helped him sit up.   
  
"Calm down, sir," he ordered as Piett clung frantically to him for support. "You have hibernation sickness, but you'll recover."   
  
"I can't see," he gulped in a shaky voice.   
  
"The blindness is temporary," Fett assured him.   
  
There was a clattering blast from a nearby door, and he pointed his blaster that way as three stormtroopers emerged from the smoking doorway.   
  
"See? Like I told you!" one of them explained. "This door didn't stand a chance against twelve blasters all set on high power."   
  
"If you would've waited thirty seconds, we would've had the damn thing opened anyway, no thanks to you!" snapped the second.   
  
"Hey look!" the third exclaimed. "The Admiral's back!"   
  
"What's going on?" demanded Fett.   
  
"Piett turned up missing, so this creepy Jedi alien took command. He had us all locked in the barracks for some reason."   
  
"Is Piett going to be all right?" asked the second.   
  
"In a day or two," Fett replied. "You three take him to sick bay. The rest of you search the ship and capture or destroy any Mandalorians you see. If you find a woman and child, alert me on my comm. Am I clear?"   
  
"Yes, sir."   
  
As the troops poured out of the barracks, eager to follow orders, Fett continued his search. Far away he heard fire being exchanged as stormtroopers encountered Mandalorians. Idly he wondered if Jodo Kast was being shot at and hoped he took a bolt in the throat.   
  
The muzzle of a blaster dug into the back of his neck, and he froze.   
  
"Wise decision, Fett," Kast's mocking voice purred, and a gloved hand clamped on his shoulder. "Having a hole seared in one's neck isn't exactly pleasant."   
  
He took a deep breath. "Let my wife and child go, Kast. It's me you want."   
  
Kast chuckled. "She's an excellent woman. Feisty, beautiful, and fights like an acklay. And you've the cutest little daughter, too." The hand squeezed, fingers digging painfully into his collarbone. "No, I think I'd rather keep the two of them around. We could use some female additions to the ranks."   
  
"You wouldn't dare," snarled Fett.   
  
"I'll be the judge of that," Kast shot back. "Forward!"   
  
Fett marched ahead with the aid of a shove between the shoulder blades. He wondered if he would have time to fire at Kast before his captor pulled the trigger. Impossible, he realized... unless he had a distraction.   
  
Quietly he moved a hand to one of the braided Wookie scalps on his shoulder and began working the metal clip on its end loose. Kast ignored the movement, thinking it to be nervous fidgeting. Once he had the clip out, he lowered his hand and, taking quick aim, tossed the metal into a nearby ventilation grate.   
  
The vent shaft amplified the tinkle of the clip so it became an ominous rattle. Kast's gaze jerked toward the sound for a mere moment.   
  
It was enough.   
  
The Mandalorian leader grunted and buckled from the fist in his gut. Fett ran a few paces and whirled, firing three quick blasts. Kast fell to the ground and rolled to avoid the shots, then moved to a kneeling position and fired a flechete-blade thrower. Fett jerked to the side just enough for the blade to hit his chest plate with a clang and bounce harmlessly away.   
  
Unsatisfied with that shot's effect, Kast pulled out his blaster, but Fett had dived for his legs. The two of them rolled a moment on the floor, wrestling and trying to gain an upper hand. Kast finally clubbed Fett under the chin with an elbow, drew a vibroblade, and brought it down to slash his throat.   
  
Fett grabbed Kast's wrist, then flicked out his jagged fore-arm blades and raked them across his opponent's chest, over the unprotected collarbones. Kast yelped and dropped the knife, and Fett kicked him off of him and got to his feet.   
  
Kast was nowhere to be seen.   
  
Disturbed, Fett crept a little further down the hall. He reached a doorway at the far end and opened it, the stale metallic wind of the reactor shaft greeting him. He pulled his blaster and checked behind him to make sure Kast wasn't trying to corner him, then poked his head through the doorway.   
  
The sense of movement just over his head alerted him, and he leaped forward into the shaft as a gout of flame swept through the area where he had just been. He activated his jet pack and shot upward, past a startled Kast clinging to the bare wall over the doorway, and pumped several rounds at him. In return Kast soared upward to join him, firing.   
  
The two of them spiraled higher and higher in a deadly aerial ballet, blaster bolts, bursts of flame, darts, flechete blades, and small rockets filling the air around them. Their armor was soon blotched with red and black as each took grazing wounds or narrowly escaped explosions. Occasionally one or the other would seem to gain an upper hand, only to lose ground a moment later.   
  
Finally, exasperated, Kast ripped a thermal detonator from his belt, activated it, and flung it at him.   
  
/The fool!/ thought Fett. /You never pull out the heavy artillery for a single foe!/ He shot the explosive in midair and gunned his propulsion pack as fire bloomed beneath him.   
  
When the flames died away, Fett could see Kast fall, badly burned, toward the bottom of the shaft. Growling, he cut power to his jets and plummeted after him. Once his fall took him near Kast, he grabbed the Mandalorian and turned the power back on, flying to the nearest doorway.   
  
"Don't you dare die on me yet," he snarled. "You haven't told me where you stashed Liz and Naomi."   
  
"Boba Fett..." Kast coughed. "Don't... kill me... please... Fett... join us... you could be... the best of us all..."   
  
"Where is my wife?!" Fett demanded, shaking him.   
  
Kast shouted in pain as the jerking motions aggravated his burns. "Stop! Detention block 4, cell 229..."   
  
Fett dropped Kast, kicked him for good measure, and bolted for the nearest lift. It seemed to take ages to get to the detention block, and there were tears of relief in his eyes when he finally blasted open the cell door to find his wife seated on a bench, cradling their child.   
  
"Honey, I'm home and I'm starved!" he announced. "What's for dinner?"   
  
She hugged him. "Took you long enough."   
  
"Ah, you know me," he replied. "I like to make an entrance. How's Naomi?"   
  
"I just hope this hasn't traumatized her anymore," Liz replied, handing her over.   
  
"Hi, Naomi," Fett cooed.   
  
She squealed and tapped his helmet with a tiny hand.   
  
"Seems fine to me." He turned around to carry her out -- and froze.   
  
Jodo Kast stood unsteadily in the entrance of the detention block, leaning against the doorway for balance, rifle pointed at the Fetts. His breath rattled in his chest, and the sickening stench of charred flesh and hot metal wafted their way.   
  
"Say hi to your father for me, Fett," he rasped.   
  
"Say it yourself," Liz suggested, grabbing her husband's arm and firing his grappling- hook launcher.   
  
The cord wrapped around the gun, and with a savage yank Fett pulled the gun out of his hands. Kast then fired a flechete blade at the bundle in his arms. Fett twisted his upper body, and the shot meant for Naomi hit his upper arm and sliced it to the bone. Liz, meanwhile, grabbed his blaster and fired, killing Kast.   
  
"Losing your edge, dear," she quipped.   
  
"Excuse me, my arms were full," he shot back.   
  
She took Naomi back while he clamped a hand over his wound. "Let's get you to the medical bay." 


	18. Pirates vs Jedi and New Republic

Chapter XVIII - Showdown Two: Pirates vs. Jedi and Republic  
  
There was nothing good to say about war.   
  
Gabriel shielded his eyes against the explosion as a Republic ground vehicle launched a missile at an old Trade Federation tank belonging to the pirates. The Gran who had been drawing a bead on him fell as a ragged fragment of shrapnel from the exploding tank hit him in the back. Grateful that he hadn't had to kill the man, he moved on.   
  
He'd never been involved in a war before. Sure, he'd studied the World Wars and their effect on his country, and he'd joined in more than one rally to protest the USA's war against Iraq. But the actual fighting, the killing, the uncertainty of surviving to see the next minute, was a distant reality. Now, immersed in the gritty, stomach-churning thick of a pitched battle, he could fully appreciate why so many people longed for peace.   
  
A Nikto came at him with a vibroaxe, and he slashed through the weapon and threw him to the ground with a shove of the Force.   
  
Long day ahead.   
  
---------   
  
Han and Chewie's speeder roared across the Dune Sea, rocking now and then from enemy fire.   
  
"Toward that rock, Chewie!" Han ordered. "Looks like its crawling with pirates!"   
  
Chewie barked.   
  
"Of course I know what I'm doing, hairball!"   
  
A massive jut of sandstone sheltered a pack of the mercenaries, and two of them were firing on the speeder while four more set up a stolen cannon. Han armed the proton torpedo while Chewie guided them closer.   
  
"A little more..." Han urged. "Now turn!"   
  
A glowing sphere shot from the speeder just before it swerved away. Too late the pirates saw the danger and tried to flee, but the missile impacted and vaporized them instantly. The rock formation shattered like glass, pummeling the sands with blackened shards.   
  
Han laughed. "If they're all this stupid, the battle's practically over."   
  
Chewie looked behind them and yowled.   
  
"What do you mean 'uh-oh?' We hit 'em, didn't we?"   
  
The Wookie pointed.   
  
Something had been hiding behind that formation -- namely, an AT-AT walker, no doubt sold to the pirates on the black market soon after the Empire's fall. The walker had doubtless seen better days, for large pieces of its plating were missing and one leg was bent out of shape, but it remained as lethal as ever. As if spitting fire it launched a volley of green energy at their speeder.   
  
"Sithspawn!" Han hissed. "Punch it, Chewie!"   
  
--------  
  
In Ricardo's cantina, Princess Leia, the droids, Governor Nitch, Chief Sha'kooha, and Wor'arran looked on as a holographic display recreated the battle. At this point in the struggle, both armies seemed to be evenly matched.   
  
"We've evacuated all refugees and civilians to Mos Espa," Nitch told her. "I only hope they have something to come back to."   
  
Sha'kooha honked.   
  
"Chief says our warriors not let pirates win," Wor'arran translated.   
  
"We thank your people for their courage and sacrifices," Leia told him. "It's noble of you to want to aid us, for I fear many Tuskens will be killed."   
  
Sha'kooha replied dismissively.   
  
"Better hero's death than coward's life for warrior," Wor'arran said. "We fight with starmen to death if need to."   
  
A fuzz of static issued from Leia's comm. "Han here! We've got a walker at point oh- five!"   
  
"Oh no," Leia moaned as the vehicle in question appeared on the holo-display.   
  
"I don't like the look of this," Threepio whimpered. "Why don't we call a retreat, your Highness? I'm sure the people of Mos Eisley would have little trouble relocating..."   
  
Sha'kooha barked something that sounded remarkably like "What's he saying?" When Wor'arran gave him the gist of it, the chief turned and whacked the protocol droid over the gold-plated noggin with his staff, sending him to the floor.   
  
"I like this guy," Nitch said with a grin.   
  
"Sorry about machine," Wor'arran apologized. "But chief not like cowards."   
  
"Frankly, I'm just sorry it wasn't me who hit him," Leia replied.   
  
Artoo beeped, then turned and headed out the door.   
  
"Artoo!" shouted Leia.   
  
"Artoo, where are you going?" demanded Threepio from the floor. "This is no time for heroics!"   
  
-------  
  
Xna darted through the ranks, hissing, yellow eyes fixed on the Aqualish pirate who was threatening Chyna. The human was fending off the being's fire but making no headway in the duel. That changed when Xna knocked his legs out from under him, and the two of them beat a hasty retreat.   
  
"Thanks," Chyna said breathlessly.   
  
"Anytime," replied Xna.   
  
A bantha went down not three meters from them, crushing an unfortunate Republic solders and two pirates. The Tusken warrior on its back came up fighting, cutting down the enemy troops who swarmed in to take him. Though outgunned, the Sandpeople were notoriously tough, and they seemed not to know the meaning of the Basic term "surrender."   
  
A Republic speeder pulled up. "You two need a lift?" the pilot asked.   
  
"Take us to the front line," Chyna ordered. "We'll see if we can't take out some of their heavier artillery."   
  
---------  
  
"We've got them on the run here!" Hekku shouted into his comm as he and Korie chased a gaggle of pirates over a small dune.   
  
"Where exactly is here?" asked Nitch from the other end of the connection.   
  
"Six kilometers east of Mos Eisley, by my estimation."   
  
"Don't pursue them. Come back and help the rest of the troops. About a third of their force has retreated, but we've still got their big guns to contend with."   
  
"Copy, Governor."   
  
A Kabuz pirate was climbing onto a speeder bike to make a quicker getaway. Korie tossed him off and straddled the vehicle while Hekku hopped on behind her and clung to her broad shoulders. She punched the accelerator, and they shot toward the heat of the battle.   
  
"Hey, that's an AT-AT!" Hekku shouted.   
  
/I know what an AT-AT looks like/ Korie replied. /I also see a few Hailfires and tanks in the mix. Let's see if we can't get closer and disable a few./   
  
The bike darted amidst the huge vehicles, a tiny target for their cumbersome cannons. Rock and dirt geysered up around them as shots pummeled the desert. Korie piloted the speeder near a large gunship, and an ancient Republic walker blasted a gaping hole in its side as it tried to nail the two Jedi. The infuriated pirates aboard the gunship fired on the walker, and soon an all-out war began as more vehicles joined in the fray.   
  
"Nice one!" Hekku shouted.   
  
/Thanks./   
  
"Get me closer to that one!"   
  
She pulled the bike alongside a tank, and he reached out with his lightsaber to carve a long gash in its side. When his blade came in contact with the repulsors a deep boom resounded inside its plating, and they veered away as the vehicle hit the desert floor and burst into roaring flames.   
  
/Good. Now lets check out that walker./   
  
--------  
  
Artoo halted some hundred meters from the walker, his photoreceptors straining to take in the enormous machine. It plodded closer, wobbling on its twisted front leg, as laser fire streaked from its "head." The little droid's logic processor was abuzz with activity, oblivious to the screams, blasts, explosions, and flak all around his badly carbon-scored body.   
  
/So this is it/ his processor churned. /Any last words?/   
  
A circular foot smashed into the earth five meters away.   
  
/Yes, and those last words are "I really wish I had a better plan than this!"/   
  
He opened panels on his legs, extended his jets, and shot skyward. Upon reaching the walker's underside he extended a grasping arm and clung on for dear life while opening a hatch with his circular saw. Once this was open, he reactivated his jets and darted into the AT-AT's interior.   
  
Heavy engines and machinery roared and thudded all around him, and he gave a blurp of dismay. This wasn't where he wanted to be. He wheeled about until he discovered an access hatch and opened it.   
  
This chamber appeared to be the passenger hold. He rotated his dome, but all sensors indicated it was empty. He continued toward his goal.   
  
In the cockpit, a male Dug and a female human were wrestling with the controls and arguing over who got to shoot what next. Artoo squeaked to get their attention.   
  
"Hurr?" the Dug growled. "What's that doing here?"   
  
"I dunno," the woman replied. "Must have come with this hulk..."   
  
Artoo retracted his third leg and angled his body so that his head pointed at the Dug, then charged. The impact threw him out of his seat and against the console, and he struck his head on the viewscreen and went out cold. With a startled "Hey!" the woman leaped out of her chair to confront the droid, but he rammed his electro-jabber into her stomach with enough force to render her unconscious as well.   
  
Content that no one would disturb him, Artoo extended his periscopic photoreceptor so he could see out the viewscreen, then plugged himself into the computer.   
  
---------  
  
Gabriel took a flying leap atop a Hailfire droid and buried his lightsaber in its single red photoreceptor. The great wheeled droid ceased firing and slowed, then buzzed ominously. He dismounted and bolted as the machine exploded.   
  
"Good work, Gabriel," Xna congratulated.   
  
"Merci," he replied. "They sure have a ragtag army."   
  
"You can find sssome odd thingssss on the black market."   
  
"Like eBay."   
  
The AT-AT that had been menacing the Republic troops suddenly paused, then turned and began firing on the pirate army. Startled, the mercenaries scattered.   
  
"Hey, who took command of the walker?" wondered Xna.   
  
"Who cares?" Gabriel retorted. "Let's keep these scumbags on the run!"   
  
-------  
  
It had been a bloody but mercifully brief battle that day, for the pirates, though vicious, hadn't the discipline of soldiers. Roughly half their numbers were either dead or captured, and the rest were either being rounded up in the Dune Sea or intercepted by the Republic Fleet as they tried to flee the planet. Now the troops of the Republic set about to tending their wounded and retrieving their dead.   
  
The Jedi, Leia, Han and Chewie were uneasily watching the AT-AT, which hadn't moved or fired for several minutes now. Wor'arran came up and stared with them, though his was a gaze of wonder rather than anxiety.   
  
"Mechanical animal," he marveled. "Very clever."   
  
"I want to know who was piloting it," Han said. "Their aim was almost too dead-on."   
  
Threepio shuffled up at that moment. "Excuse me, Mistress Leia, but has Artoo come back by any chance?"   
  
"Your round friend?" asked Wor'arran. "No, not seen him."   
  
"Oh, I do hope he hasn't gotten himself in trouble again," Threepio moaned.   
  
A hatch on the walker's belly clanged open, and a familiar if somewhat blackened form tumbled to the sands with a loud "wheeeeeeeeeeee!"   
  
"Artoo!" everyone shouted simultaneously.   
  
Korie ran over and righted the droid. He gave a hiccuping beep, then tootled merrily.   
  
"Someone's going to be gloating over this for years," Han smirked.   
  
"Artoo Detoo, the galaxy's greatest hero," laughed Gabriel. 


	19. Krad the Destroyer vs Anakin Skywalker

Chapter XIX - Showdown Three: Krad the Destroyer vs. Anakin Skywalker  
  
/There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no chaos; there is order. There is no death; there is the Force./   
  
Anakin took silent comfort from these words as he strode down the halls of the Executor, S'kina at his side, Luke in his arms. Pitched battle went on around them as stormtroopers charged by him, intent on their goal, or exchanged fire with the Mandalorians that infested his ship. But he was oblivious to it as he walked on toward the medical bay.   
  
"Krad is in the sick bay," S'kina whispered. "I feel him."   
  
"I know," he replied.   
  
She clutched her gaderffi. "How could he hurt Luke like this?"   
  
"Do not let your anger overcome you," he cautioned. "That was my downfall -- and Krad's. It is the path to the dark side."   
  
The medical bay doors slid open, and to Anakin's surprise two of the beds were occupied. At one, three stormtroopers watched over Admiral Piett, who was staring vacantly at nothing and moving one hand in front of his face. Boba Fett and Liz sat on the other, Liz holding their baby, Fett with a bacta wrap on his right arm from shoulder to elbow. And in the center of the room, staring at him with a barely contained blend of hatred and anticipation, was Krad.   
  
"Lord Vader," he crooned. "At last we meet again."   
  
Anakin walked calmly past him and lay Luke upon an empty bed. Immediately a medical droid set to work connecting him to various monitors while S'kina drew up a chair to sit by his side.   
  
"So Lord Vader retains some emotion," Krad noted. "Love for his son."   
  
"Yes," Anakin replied calmly, combing his fingers through Luke's hair before straightening and turning to face Krad. "I love him. I would rather you had killed me outright than done what you did to him."   
  
Krad smiled smugly. "And I suppose you want to see me suffer for that, don't you?" He removed a horn-handled lightsaber from his belt. "Go on then. Do your worst. It will be nothing compared to what I have already endured at your hand."   
  
Anakin silently grieved for the young man. He remembered glimpsing the boy as a terrified four-year-old, standing by his mother's side and clutching her robes as they waited their turn at the Imperial butcher block. How that innocence had been brutally shattered in an instant, how the dark side had hardened his heart and consumed his soul. He found he didn't hate Krad, only sorrowed at his fate and his hand in bringing it about.   
  
"I am not here for vengeance, Krad. I am here to offer forgiveness to you. I harbor no anger toward you and forgive what you have done. I only hope you can forgive me for what I have done to you."   
  
Krad's jaw snapped open as he was totally taken aback by Anakin's words.   
  
"How old are you now, Krad? In your early twenties, I presume. Ah, yes. You are much like I was at your age. I, too, hated one who I felt was responsible for my pain. I, too, was filled with anger and the lust for revenge. And that anger very nearly destroyed me."   
  
An explosion of the Force shattered the medical bay's bacta tank -- which was thankfully vacant -- and sprayed the fluid all over the room. Krad's eyes sparkled with fury.   
  
"Don't you dare compare me to you!"   
  
"I only want to caution you, Krad. Anger, fear, impatience, aggression, vengeance... they are of the dark side. If left unchecked, they will devour you as I was devoured."   
  
"My anger makes me strong!"   
  
Anakin cringed, hearing his own words coming out of the young man's mouth. "But at what cost? The dark side's power is easy and swift to obey you, but it is as seductive and addictive as spice. The farther down the dark path you stray, the harder it is to throw off the chains of the dark side. In time, it will enslave you."   
  
Krad's chest billowed in and out, and the muscles in his face went taut as he set his jaw firmly.   
  
"It's not too late, son of Zorn. You can be freed if you so chose. You can still rejoin the light." He offered a hand. "Let go of your hate."   
  
There was a flicker of uncertainty in those gray eyes, and for a wildly hopeful moment Anakin thought he had managed to penetrate the darkness. But an instant later he thumbed on his lightsaber and raised the silver blade high.   
  
"I WILL NEVER LET GO!" he screamed.   
  
Anakin hurriedly switched on his own saber and blocked the swing, gray and blue blades grating against each other with a terrifying snarl of sound.   
  
"You killed my mother," Krad hissed through gritted teeth. "And only when you lie dead at my feet will her soul rest."   
  
"No, Krad," Anakin replied as calmly as if they had been discussing the matter over drinks. "She mourns for you, for the state of your soul. Her desire is for you to put away your anger."   
  
"How would you know?" he demanded, slashing again. In his fury he was making no professional cuts or drills, only hacking madly at Anakin's defenses.   
  
"She spoke to me."   
  
Krad paused, confused. Another foe would have pressed the advantage then, but Anakin held back, waiting.   
  
"I think you are lying," Krad said finally, though he didn't sound definite.   
  
"What motivation do I have to lie to you?"   
  
"You are cowardly and cunning," Krad snarled, "and will do anything to avoid paying for your crimes."   
  
"I have already paid. I am paying still and will always pay. Everything I have done to someone else, I feel ten times over."   
  
Krad surprised him with a complicated cyclone maneuver. It was tempting to wait for the expected opening and give a disabling blow, but Anakin kept solely on defense. He'd sworn not to harm Krad and had no intention of breaking that oath.   
  
"Someone's gonna lose an eye quick," one of the stormtroopers muttered.   
  
"Shut up, Dodger," snapped another.   
  
Anakin knew he had to take this battle out of the medical bay before an innocent bystander was injured. When Krad took a low swing at his legs, he struck him under the chin with his saber's hilt and left him momentarily dazed. He took advantage of the moment and quickly ran into the hallway.   
  
Krad joined him there within seconds, laughing. "Run if you want, Vader, but I'll have your blood sooner or later," he hissed, having misinterpreted Anakin's diversion. "You owe me a life, and there is but one way to repay that."   
  
"You don't have to do this," he replied. "What will killing me accomplish? It will not put an end to your pain. It will only accelerate your fall to darkness." He paused to parry a blow. "If I kill you now, oblivion will take your spirit. But if this mortal body dies at your hand, I will live on in the Force."   
  
He sensed the danger almost too late and fell to his knees just as a loose floor panel whizzed over his head like a guillotine. Krad's eyes went wide as the missle hurtled toward him, and he hurriedly batted it aside with the Force. Then he brought his lightsaber down on Anakin like a battle-axe, only to have a glowing rod of sapphire intercept it.   
  
/Tell me I wasn't THIS stubborn when Luke tried to turn me back/ Anakin thought in frustration.   
  
--------  
  
Luke scowled at the darkness, growing irritated. For the past several hours he'd been trying to touch... something, but wasn't having much success. There wasn't so much as a glimmer of the Force responding to his entreaty.   
  
/Calm down, Skywalker!/ he ordered. /You're trying too hard! Don't try to recover it all at once! Start small!/   
  
Since his messy encounter with Krad it seemed as if he'd been ripped loose from reality as he knew it and set adrift in a black void, catching the briefest snatches of vision and sound. At first he had simply mourned, screaming mentally, clinging to the very edge of sanity and railing at his fate. But soon reason had overtaken sorrow, and he cast about for some means of regaining the Force.   
  
/The Force will always be with you, Luke. Always./   
  
Always with him? But if that were so, how could he be stripped of it so easily? Unless Krad hadn't removed it.   
  
That had to be the answer. The Force was still there; he'd simply been cut off from it. Like S'kina's illusions, the blankness was meant to make him believe he'd lost the Force permanently. Simply a barrier, he theorized, one that he could -- hopefully -- break down.   
  
/Father?/ he tried. /Father!/   
  
No answer.   
  
/Leia?/ he inquired. /If you hear me, please answer./   
  
Only silence greeted him.   
  
S'kina's hand touched his brow. Could he reach her? She was very close. It shouldn't be a big effort.   
  
/S'kina!/ he called, putting all his strength behind the sending. /Hear me!/   
  
Repeatedly he cried her name, seeking to bridge the void between them. He sweated with the effort, and squiggles of light danced before his eyes as he clenched them shut in concentration. Where he had once been able to touch a mind halfway across the galaxy, it now took all his strength to even attempt to reach someone standing right next to him.   
  
/S'kina... I love you!/ He put all his emotion, all his strength, behind that statement.   
  
The barrier lurched, reformed, held strong -- and shattered.   
  
/Luke!/ Her hand tightened on his. /You have recovered! You are all right!/   
  
A mind-touch had never felt so wonderful before.   
  
/I love you/ he said again, more gently this time.   
  
/And I you./   
  
It was like being immersed in water after crossing the Dune Sea, like being granted sight after being blinded. He basked in the Force until its flow threatened to carry him away, reveling in its feel. Then he reached out -- effortlessly, it seemed -- to touch his family and Padawans.   
  
/Luke!/ Leia sobbed. /You've recovered!/   
  
/I'll see you again very soon, my sister. I love you./   
  
/Master Luke!/ chorused the adult Padawans.   
  
/How fares Mos Eisley?/   
  
/The pirates attacked en masse, but we've beaten them back and they're retreating as we speak/ Chyna replied.   
  
/And I doubt they'll come back/ Xna added with satisfaction.   
  
/Master Skywalker!/ the children cheered. /You're back!/   
  
/Sit tight, younglings. We'll all be home soon./   
  
/Luke./ Anakin's tone was heavy with relief. /I feared I'd lost you./   
  
/I'm pretty hard to lose./ Then he frowned at the proximity of his father's voice. /Where exactly are you?/   
  
/Aboard the Executor, which is in orbit above Tatooine./   
  
Luke shot bolt upright as memory returned in a rush. Anakin was fighting Krad! He had to do something! He grabbed his lightsaber and leaped out of bed, oblivious to the fact that he was still connected to life-reading monitors and dragging several down in his haste.   
  
/If you get out of this alive, Father, I'm going to station an entire battalion of stealth troopers right next to your apartment!/   
  
/Do that and face my landlady's wrath./   
  
/Hold tight. I'm coming for you./   
  
/I must tell you, Luke -- while you were unconcious.../ The thought was cut off with a jab of pain, and Luke realized Krad must have wounded him while he was distracted.   
  
/Don't try to talk to me. Just concentrate on staying in one piece./   
  
"Luke, your father..." began Liz.   
  
"I know," he replied. "Which way did they go?"   
  
"Toward the main docking bay," a stormtrooper offered.   
  
"Thank you... ah..."   
  
"My number is TK-577," he replied proudly. "And my comrades are TK-333 and TK- 409. At your service, Master Skywalker."   
  
Luke's gaze flickered toward Piett, who was still staring absently at his hand. "Are you going to be okay, Admiral?"   
  
"I think my sight's returning," Piett noted. "I'm starting to make out shadows."   
  
Satisfied by that answer, Luke began to leave.   
  
"Wait for me," S'kina declared. "I promised you I would fight at your side."   
  
He smiled. "Thank you."   
  
"We're going with you," 333 put in. "It's our duty to protect Anakin."   
  
"As long as he doesn't go name-happy like that Krad guy," 409 muttered.   
  
They charged out of the medical bay, only to run into a pack of Mandalorians who seemed hell-bent on leaving the Stardestroyer. Luke drew his saber, but they charged on past without pause. Several dozen stormtroopers were at their heels, herding them along.   
  
"Wait, you six!" Luke called, stopping the stealth troopers that were at the tail end of the pack. "I want you to accompany me."   
  
"Roger, sir," one of them agreed.   
  
They moved on. Blaster fire echoed all around them as troopers and mercenaries warred for supremacy or mere survival. Several times their progress was halted by packs of the warriors, and several times they were forced to engage in battle themselves before they could proceed.   
  
"This has got to be the galaxy's slowest rescue," Luke grumbled.   
  
"Keep your robes on, sir," 409 advised. "We're almost there."   
  
Unfortunately, a dozen Mandalorians awaited them at the hangar entrance. They opened fire immediately, and Luke and S'kina were hard pressed to block the hail of blaster bolts pouring at them like a fiery wind. Their own troops fired back, taking down the lead warrior but not doing much damage to the rest.   
  
The ominous clang of footsteps on durasteel echoed behind them. Not more Mandalorians! Luke turned to face the new intruders. Instead of mercenaries, over fifty stormtroopers moved toward them at a jog, weapons ready. Their timing was perfect! One of their companions must have commed for reinforcements.   
  
"Surrender," one of the newcomers ordered. "Weapons down and hands up."   
  
"Let's make a run for it!" hissed one Mandalorian.   
  
"I'm not going in there with the boss and Vader hacking at each other," another growled. Quite reluctantly they all lowered their weapons and surrendered to a man.   
  
Luke saluted their reinforcements. "Thank you, gentlemen. Without you..."   
  
But in the blink of an eye their benefactors vanished.   
  
The stealth troopers were unfazed, knowing the Force when they saw it. But 577, 333, and 409 were agape.   
  
"Thanks, S'kina," Luke murmured.   
  
"Anytime," she replied with a shrug. "Let's go to your father."   
  
"You three, comm for reinforcements, real ones this time," Luke ordered. "The rest of you follow me."   
  
---------  
  
Anakin leaned against the crates for support, keeping out of Krad's sight. Sweat slimed his skin beneath his armor, and a long narrow burn from left shoulder to left hip throbbed in pain. He was losing this battle, both physically and spiritually. For now it was only a matter of time before Krad mortally wounded him -- and lost his soul in the process.   
  
"You cannot hide forever, Vader," Krad taunted, pacing before a docked TIE.   
  
"I will not fight you," Anakin replied. "And for the tenth time, my name is Anakin."   
  
A mirthless chuckle. "Names are merely words, labels we fix to people and things to categorize them. You can go by Vader or Anakin, but it does not change who you are."   
  
Anakin winced as rivulets of perspiration ran into his eyes, stinging them. He wished he could wipe his brow.   
  
"Do not think your pretty words will change my mind," Krad said fiercely. "I've awaited this moment for nearly twenty years. I've planned too much, suffered too much, lost too much to fail now."   
  
"Exactly," Anakin replied. "You have lost too much. You have lost so much through your anger. The dark side offers nothing of value, only drains like a mynock on a power cable. If you continue to let it control you, it will drain your soul."   
  
"Speak for yourself," Krad hissed. "You're the one who seems to have been sucked dry of your soul." He paused. "No. Not entirely dry. There is a sliver of it left. The smallest particle, but enough for you to harbor feelings for your son."   
  
He gripped the crates for support. Krad wouldn't...   
  
"Yes, I sense he has the Force with him again," the Kruvexian continued. "He's managed to break down the block I placed. And he comes this way. Well, I suppose if you will not give yourself to me, I will destroy Luke. A proper vengeance, I must say. A loved one for a loved one."   
  
/No!/ Anakin thought frantically. /It's a trick. He's trying to get you to come out of hiding that he may murder you.../   
  
There was a loud sizzle, and belatedly he realized his moment of fear had given away his location. He flung himself aside as the silver blade sliced through the stack of boxes that had concealed him. The slash angled to the side when Krad sensed his quarry had changed position. In defense Anakin used the Force to send the crates flying in every direction, and Krad tumbled to the deck.   
  
"Good, Vader," he grinned, springing to his feet. "But not good enough." He assumed a defensive stance. "Come fight me. I'm ready for you."   
  
Anakin stepped out of the jumble of crates. "No," he said quietly.   
  
Krad regarded him curiously. "No?"   
  
He deactivated his lightsaber and tossed it to the floor. "I have no wish to further harm you, Krad. And it is obvious that I cannot escape this battle through fighting. So I elect to put my weapon away." He stood at ease, hands hanging loosely at his sides. "The choice is now yours. You may kill me, a choice that may temporarily quench your lust to kill but will forever sever you from the light. Or you may put away your hatred and renounce the dark side, an option that will heal your inner wounds and, in the long run, reunite you with Zorn."   
  
Krad stared at him a long time, expression a mix of suspicion, confusion, and consideration. Anakin waited, hopeful. He'd realized that fighting Krad was only making things worse, for Krad fully expected him to die fighting. But striking down an unarmed, unprotesting man was another matter entirely. Had he sunk to that level?   
  
With deliberate caution he extinguished his blade and bent down to set it on the deck. Anakin watched every move and felt his guard relax a bit.   
  
But his foe struck with lightning speed, screaming, raking his claws across Anakin's chest. Stunned, he staggered a few steps, only for a knee in the gut to bring him to his knees. Fire ripped down his back as Krad tore at him yet again.   
  
"I don't need a weapon," he hissed. "I'll kill you bare-handed."   
  
Anakin's eyes bulged as an invisible grip tightened about his throat like iron talons. He thrashed on the deck in panic, fighting for air. Krad's maniacal laugh rang in his ears, and darkness gnawed at the edges of his vision as his oxygen-starved lungs burned in agony.   
  
Suddenly his attacker's laughter became a surprised howl as blaster fire crackled in the air. Anakin saw -- but strangely, couldn't sense -- a cluster of stormtroopers firing on the Kruvexian. Krad called his lightsaber to him with the Force, but it was too late.   
  
The grip on Anakin's throat shattered, and he gasped in air. He wanted to scream for the stealth troopers to stop their attack, but he couldn't get the words out. He could only watch as first the soldiers, then Luke and S'kina attacked and overwhelmed Krad. His death scream, a cry of extreme anger and pain, would always haunt him.   
  
He'd failed. He'd tried, but it was for naught. Another innocent had lost all thanks to his actions. He pulled himself to his hands and knees and retched violently, sick of war, sick of death, sick of his past continuing to surface and bringing violence with it.   
  
"Father?" Luke knelt and put his arm around Anakin's shoulders. He hissed in pain, and Luke hurriedly moved his arm away from the deep scratches.   
  
"Zorn appeared to me while you were comatose," Anakin said, continuing to gasp for air. "She wanted me to help her son back to the light..."   
  
"And you tried," Luke replied. "But he had to choose to change. You couldn't force him."   
  
"Luke!"   
  
The Skywalkers looked up to see a man in a Rogue pilot flightsuit jogging into the docking bay.   
  
"Wedge!" Luke exclaimed. "Am I glad to see you!"   
  
The Rogue commander cracked a smile. "I don't think you'll be quite as glad when you learn why I was sent to the Executor."   
  
"What do you mean?" demanded Luke.   
  
"I'm sorry, Luke, but I've been ordered to place your father under arrest for violating the terms of his exile." 


	20. Beneath the Armor

Chapter XX - Beneath the Armor  
  
It had been Polowski who had tipped off the Republic on Anakin's departure. The guards had been told to keep him in the apartment, but they hadn't been ordered to keep him away from the phone. He'd been quick to take advantage of this, letting the Galactic government know the details in exchange for having his pending drug-possession charges dropped.   
  
The Republic Senate was having a heyday with the news that Anakin Skywalker had defied the Jedi Council's orders. Few of those in the hierarchy of the government liked the ex-Sith, and most were eager to punish him in some way. They toted Polowski as a hero, and the squealer was lapping up the attention -- at least, he did until Patrick and Jason tracked him down and congratulated him via a broken jaw.   
  
And when Krad's body was recovered from the Executor with his lightsaber nearby, rumors that Anakin had gone back to his Jedi-killing ways spread like wildfire.   
  
Leia stormed into the conference room where Luke, Han, and S'kina sat, awaiting Supreme Chancellor Mon Mothma's decision.   
  
"Not good, is it?" S'kina asked, noting her future sister-in-law's expression.   
  
"They still haven't reached a decision," Leia replied angrily. "They need a unanimous vote, and the Earth Senator and a handful of other systems are still holding out. But the majority are favoring putting him on trial for killing Krad."   
  
Han said a few choice words. "Krad was responsible for killing and harassing thousands of people! He's the one that should be on trial, and they're acting like he was an innocent victim!"   
  
"He didn't even want to kill him," Luke added. "It was S'kina and I who dealt the death blows."   
  
Leia sat down with the others. "The Senate has, for the most part, made good, fair, unbiased decisions to govern the galaxy. But when the matter involves a Sith, fairness and justice are thrown out the viewport. They're so eager to put him away permanently, for any reason, that Krad himself can testify on Anakin's behalf and it wouldn't move them." She clenched a useless fist. "Incidentally, the Kruvexian Senator is among those who don't want to accuse him of murder."   
  
"Wow," breathed Han. "That's a shock. They have the most reason to be angry."   
  
"I've spoken with a few of them," Luke told him. "They're usually not a vengeful people. I guess Krad was an exception to the rule."   
  
The door slid open to admit three figures -- Mon Mothma and two beings in senatorial robes, one a brown-eyed blond human, the other a Kruvexian with dark brown skin and glowing red eyes. Mothma's face was an unreadable mask, but then, most expert politicians were good at concealing their emotions. The human looked frustrated, but the Kruvexian was serene.   
  
"Lady Mothma," greeted Luke, standing and giving a polite bow. "Senator Luther. I don't believe I know your name, sir..."   
  
"Senator Brok the Wise, Kruvexian Representative in the Senate and member of Empress Iya the Just's Royal Council," the Kruvexian replied, nodding.   
  
"Has the Senate reached a decision?" asked S'kina.   
  
"Not yet," Mothma replied. "Senators Luther and Brok are still holding out."   
  
"I do not agree that Mr. Skywalker should be disciplined," Luther insisted. "Under the circumstances, he acted as anyone would have upon learning their child was in danger. And we have first-hand testimony from several sources that it was Luke and the young Tusken who killed him, not Anakin. As far as I'm concerned, he should simply be returned to our planet to finish his exile."   
  
"The first-hand witnesses you speak of are stormtroopers," Mothma replied, a distasteful expression briefly crossing her face. "They are loyal to Anakin. Why would they give any testimony incriminating him?"   
  
"Mothma," Luke cut in, "when I was separated from the Force, I was in such pain that my father could feel it light years away. He came after me out of love, not to thumb his nose at the Republic or return to the dark side. His actions should be rewarded, not punished."   
  
"Jedi Master Skywalker," she replied crisply, "the Republic has been generous in granting you permission to reestablish the Jedi Order. We have tolerated the former Council's orders to keep Anakin Skywalker alive and out of prison. But when he is clearly guilty of another murder, we cannot let that go unpunished."   
  
"How many times does the kid have to tell you?!" Han shouted. "Anakin didn't kill him! Just the opposite! The pirate leader was trying to kill Anakin, and Luke killed him to defend his father! Quit trying to turn this into a witch hunt!"   
  
"I've been meaning to inquire about this matter," Brok interrupted, taking a step forward. "We of Kruvex were greatly concerned when we learned one of our numbers had died in the Tatooine siege. Our kind is scarce, I'm sure you're aware."   
  
"I apologize for killing one of your people," Luke told him.   
  
"Unlike some who are too hasty to cast blame," Brok replied, frowning at the Supreme Chancellor, "I believe there was good cause to terminate the man. Though we honor our warrior heritage, we do not approve of violence for violence's sake or as a means of exacting revenge or personal gain. There is no place in our society for greed or bloodlust." He clasped his hands before him. "Do you know the name of the deceased?"   
  
"Krad the Destroyer," Luke answered.   
  
Brok's jaw dropped open. "You jest."   
  
"No, why?"   
  
"Is the name familiar?" asked Luther. "I've never heard it."   
  
"Not the surname, for those are personal choices. But the only Krad in our files is the son of Jedi Knight Zorn the Swift, daughter of the late Emperor Pothar the Wild."   
  
Mothma's eyes widened slightly before she regained composure. "Ah. He's murdered a member of the Kruvexian Royal Family. The intrigue grows."   
  
S'kina hissed something in Tusken that Luke was glad he didn't know the meaning of.   
  
"Care to repeat that in Basic, madam?" asked Mothma.   
  
"The general definition of those words, my lady, is that you are a blind idiot," S'kina replied unapologetically.   
  
"S'kina!" exclaimed Luke.   
  
"Miss S'kina," Mothma ordered, "if I hear another word out of you I will have you removed from the building!"   
  
An aide poked his head in. "Hello?"   
  
Mothma turned. "Yes?"   
  
"Uh... we would like Master Skywalker to report to the Senate at once. We've had an incident."   
  
"Did one of my students go on a rampage?" asked Luke.   
  
"No... but Yoda and Mace Windu are about to start a riot."   
  
"Another Jedi spirit visitation?" asked Leia.   
  
Mothma looked like the aide had just announced a terrorist had blown the Senate hall to oblivion.   
  
"We'd better check this out," said Luther, and everyone vacated the room.   
  
-------  
  
Anakin lay on the cold steel ledge that served as a bed in his cell, hands clasped over his chest, staring blankly at the ceiling. His wounds had been cleaned and dressed, but they still irritated him. The pain was a distant sensation, however. Dimly he thought that someone -- an attorney or senatorial aide -- should have been here by now to debrief him, but frankly he didn't care. That, too, was far from his concerns.   
  
Ever since Wedge had shown up and reluctantly placed him under arrest, he'd been lost in a sort of trance, going with him unresisting. He should be worried, he supposed, for doubtless the Senate had some nasty fate in store for him. But he felt inexplicably vacant, not exactly peaceful, but curiously devoid of any emotion at all. Stunned was the word, he guessed. In shock.   
  
Was it really worth leaving Earth? Had he done any good in disobeying Master Windu? But how could he not have tried? He might not have contributed to Luke's recovery, the defeat of the pirates, or the disbanding of the Mandalorians. And he'd failed to redeem Krad, a broken promise that rankled deeply. But he felt he'd made the right decision in going. He only hoped it wouldn't be the death of him.   
  
"Anakin."   
  
He closed his eyes. "Please, Obi-wan. I don't need this now."   
  
"You do need it," Obi-wan pressed. "Though you do not think you do, you need peace. This is a difficult time for you."   
  
He sat up. "I'm sure the Jedi are absolutely thrilled that I've once again rebelled," he remarked sarcastically.   
  
The white-haired Jedi smiled. "A few of the more conservative ones are rather annoyed, but most can understand why you left Area 51. Few Jedi could ignore such a powerful message as the one Luke gave to you." He sat down on the bench beside Anakin. "You'd be interested to know that Yoda and Windu are interceding upon your behalf."   
  
"They are?"   
  
"Indeed. As we speak, they are in the Senate building knocking some sense into a few politician's heads."   
  
Anakin couldn't help chuckling at the thought. "I owe those two so much, don't I?"   
  
"But don't think you'll get off completely, Padawan. The Council has decided to add one more year to your exile to make up for this situation."   
  
That was much less than Anakin had been expecting. He was almost afraid to ask about the second matter, but he had to know. "What of Krad? What is to be my punishment for his death?"   
  
"You will have no punishment. You did not kill him."   
  
"But Zorn," he protested. "I made her a promise. I swore I'd bring her son back..."   
  
"You're wrong." Obi-wan's expression was quite serious now. "You promised her you wouldn't hurt him. That you kept quite admirably. At any time you could have overpowered him, but instead you acted as a true Jedi would have." He looked away a moment as if receiving a message. "Zorn knew very well that her son was most likely beyond redemption, but she wished to attempt one last time to save him."   
  
"Why couldn't I reach him, Obi-wan? Luke redeemed me, and I had fallen farther into the dark paths than Krad."   
  
"Your children softened your heart, Anakin. But you redeemed yourself. That moment when you defied the Emperor and vowed to save Rachel, you declared yourself an agent of the light. It had to be your choice, and your choice alone, to be saved. Krad, unfortunately, did not wish to be saved if the cost meant abandoning his plans for vengeance. He welcomed the power of his hatred, though it would mean his destruction. You argued well with him, but he rejected your words because he preferred your death over redemption. For his fall, you are not accountable."   
  
"Will S'kina and Luke be punished for his death?"   
  
"No. They struck him down to defend you. They will not suffer for that."   
  
Anakin smiled, somewhat reassured by his Master's words. "Thank you, Obi-wan."   
  
Obi-wan grinned like a father about to brag about his child. "A pity you didn't have time to become properly acquainted with my third student, S'kina. Quite the young woman. Luke loves her, you know."   
  
Anakin nodded. "A bizarre twist of fate, I must say, for our histories are intertwined quite tightly. But she has a good head on her shoulders and a heart to match my son's. If they wish to remain together, I give them my blessing."   
  
His Master cocked his head as if responding to a distant call. "My time is at hand. I must go."   
  
"Wait!" Anakin cried. He wasn't sure why he wanted Obi-wan to stay, but at the moment the thought of him leaving pained him. "Master, don't leave me."   
  
"I have never left you, my Padawan," Obi-wan replied. "And I never will."   
  
His Master faded from view. Anakin sought him through the Force and found him close by, just as he'd promised. A gentle smile crossed his lips. It was amazing that, just a few years ago, he hated Obi-wan with so violent a passion, yet loved him like a father now.   
  
"Anakin?"   
  
He looked up sharply. "Zorn!"   
  
The Kruvexian Jedi gave a sad sort of smile and approached him.   
  
"Zorn... I'm sorry... I... I tried..." he stammered.   
  
"I know," she replied. In her deep blue eyes he was surprised to see, not anger, but a grieving acceptance. "I'm here for a different purpose. If you will, consider this my forgiveness."   
  
She raised ethereal clawed hands and placed them on either side of his helmet.   
  
"What..." he began.   
  
"You've suffered too long," she murmured. She tilted her upper body until their foreheads touched. "Let the Force flow through you."   
  
He gasped as the Force swept through him with a power he'd never felt before, filling him with a glorious sensation he couldn't quite put words to. He let it carry him away, a bright burning river, one that seemed to cleanse him inside and out. Every nerve in his body was afire with it, every cell alight, every fiber attuned to it.   
  
Zorn unclasped his helmet and removed it.   
  
---------  
  
"He seemed sort of shell-shocked when they first brought him in," the human guard explained as he escorted Luke, Leia, and S'kina to the maximum-security detention blocks in the Corusant Republic Penitentiary. "Probably was hoping to sneak back to Earth without being caught."   
  
"Just take us to him," S'kina ordered.   
  
"I'm so glad Master Windu talked some sense into Chancellor Mothma," said Leia with considerable relief. "I was afraid they would keep Father imprisoned for life."   
  
"Even she isn't going to thumb her nose at the Jedi Council," Luke replied with a grin. "But I have to say, I'll never forget her priceless expression when Yoda ordered her to dismiss the murder charges."   
  
"We're here," the guard informed them.   
  
A female Nautolan guard approached the guard, looking rather sheepish. "Uh, sir? There's been a breakout. We think."   
  
"What do you mean, 'there's been a breakout, you think?'" demanded the first guard.   
  
"Someone reported an intruder sneaking into the guard's refreshers," the second guard explained. "The problem is that he doesn't fit the description of any of our inmates. We have soldiers at the door waiting for him to come out."   
  
The first guard sighed. "It's always something on this job. I'll handle it. Please take Master Luke and Princess Leia to their father's cell. He's being released into their custody."   
  
"Yes, sir. Follow me, please."   
  
She led them to a cell, punched in the security code, and stepped back as the door hissed open.   
  
"Father!" shouted Luke, bursting in. "You're acquitted! They're letting you go..." He stopped in midsentence and stared, unbelieving.   
  
S'kina entered. "What's wrong, Luke?" Then she saw what he had seen. "Sweet stars..."   
  
Anakin was nowhere to be seen -- but his armor remained. The cape and leather bodyglove had been neatly folded and set on the metal bench, the shin greaves, chest plates, and heavy gauntlets in a neat stack beside them. The skull-like helmet sat atop the pile, respirator silent. There was no sign of a fight, struggle, or even that Anakin had taken his own life. It was simply as if he'd evaporated, leaving his hated armor behind.   
  
Leia came in last, speechless. "Is he... dead?"   
  
"Surely we would have felt him go," S'kina protested softly, refusing to believe it.   
  
Luke's face was solemn as he approached the bench. He reached out and gently touched the mask's lens, then the air intake vent. Then he abruptly turned and strode out of the cell.   
  
"Luke!" Leia called in entreaty, following him.   
  
The prison guards clustered around the refresher door, awaiting the intruder's exit. Luke approached the warden and tapped him on the shoulder.   
  
"We should probably break down the... uh, yes, Master Jedi?"   
  
"Where's my father?" Luke asked, his calm tone masking a sea of anger.   
  
"Your father?"   
  
"Yes. He's not in his cell, and he seems to have left his armor behind."   
  
The warden gaped. "Sithspawn! He must've snuffed himself out! Some inmates do that, y'know. Must've gone all one with the Force."   
  
Luke whirled to face Leia. "This can't be happening, Leia! This can't be! Father wouldn't commit suicide! Mothma must have..."   
  
"Luke, be calm!" S'kina ordered. "He lives. Can you not sense it?"   
  
"But what about the mask?" Leia asked. "He can't survive without it..."   
  
The refresher door opened. The three of them turned to get a good look at the occupant.   
  
He wore a gray jumpsuit, no doubt pilfered from the prison's laundry room. It must have been a struggle to find a garment that fit properly, for he was a tall, broad-shouldered man. Dark blond hair that was just beginning to go gray topped a middle-aged but still- handsome face. His smile was wide and easy, his brow arced in a roguish, daredevil expression. And his eyes were an intense shade of blue that matched Luke's exactly.   
  
"Hands in the air, sir," a guard ordered.   
  
"Put your weapons down!" Luke shouted, overriding the order.   
  
The man stepped forward, never taking his gaze off Luke and Leia. Tears ran down his face, tears that were quite at odds with his growing smile.   
  
"F-father?" Luke gulped.   
  
"Father?" Leia breathed.   
  
"Children." The voice came rich and deep, unblurred by machinery or electronics. "How wonderful it is to finally see you with my own eyes."   
  
The guards backed away, puzzled.   
  
As if he couldn't stand it anymore, Anakin closed the gap between them and took Luke and Leia in his arms. Together they wept, laughed, embraced, kissed each other, rejoiced in their touch. A miracle had been granted by the Force, releasing Anakin from his cybernetic prison. No longer looking out at the world through a durasteel mask, he was at last free of the armor of Vader.   
  
At last Luke worked an arm free and beckoned S'kina closer. "Father, Leia, this is S'kina, Jedi Knight. And my fiancé."   
  
The Tusken woman laughed and joined in the group embrace. "I am honored to take on the Skywalker name."   
  
"And I am honored to accept you into our family, daughter-in-law," Anakin replied, kissing her veiled cheek. 


	21. Epilogue

Chapter XXI - Epilogue: Three Years Later  
  
It was late July, and the denizens of Star City seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, for the next convention was a safe ten months away. The geeks had all either left town and gone home or put away their costumes and autograph books for the time being. The theater was no longer screening Star Wars movies, stores took most of the licensed merchandise off their shelves, and the Sons of the Sith had retreated to their lair for a time. At last the lazy days of summer could descend, albeit they were nearly over.   
  
The Elite wasn't around to see it, however. They were currently gathered outside the headquarters of a well-known publisher in New York, preparing for a book signing.   
  
"Luke Skywalker!"   
  
Luke smirked when he heard Jason's infuriated scream. He excused himself from his conversation with Tina and turned toward the man. "Yes?"   
  
Jason strode toward him, holding a toddler in Tusken-style wrappings as far away from his body as possible. The child was giggling and kicking his legs in the air.   
  
"Problem?" Luke inquired innocently.   
  
"Your spawn," Jason grumbled, "just bit me in the butt!" He thrust the boy into Luke's arms. "Are all Skywalkers pains in the neck?"   
  
"You gotta learn to like kids, Jason," Luke replied, taking his son. "Someday you'll fall in love with a woman who wants a family, and you'll have to accommodate."   
  
Jason muttered something under his breath and stalked off.   
  
"And you, Ben'arri, are supposed to be behaving yourself," Luke chided, addressing his son. "If you don't be good, Mommy will be cranky, then she'll make Daddy cranky, and Daddy will make his students cranky, and we'll all go dark side on each other."   
  
Ben'arri Skywalker squealed. "Da! Da!"   
  
"Look at my husband," S'kina chuckled, coming to stand beside Luke. "Trying to talk Jedi philosophy with an eighteen-month-old."   
  
"Hey, they're never too old to learn, dear," he replied, setting the boy down. Ben'arri toddled a few steps before plopping down on the sidewalk on his plump bottom and staring up at all the faces around him in wonder.   
  
Luke put an arm around S'kina's shoulders and smiled. She had given him the responsibility of naming their child, a task he hadn't felt adequate for. But she had insisted, reasoning that in the Tusken culture, fathers were responsible for naming their sons while mothers chose names for their daughters. In the end, he'd selected Ben'arri, partly because it reminded him of Obi-wan's nickname, partly because it was a Tusken word that translated to "gift of flight." He wondered if Ben'arri would inherit that gift from his father and grandfather.   
  
Everyone who'd been invited to the book signing's opening gala was present, taking a moment to chat and catch up on personal news before going inside. The entire Skywalker clan was present, as were the Fetts and the Elite. Of Luke's students, only Rachel was present -- Chyna and Korie were overseeing the rest of the Order on Corusant.   
  
It had been a struggle for Leia to make it, for she was extremely busy these days. In a surprise move, she had been nominated for Supreme Chancellor and elected, displacing Mon Mothma. Between leading the Senate and raising her and Han's children -- twin son and daughter Shyan and Shmi -- she had few private moments, so she was making the most of today.   
  
Fett and Liz stood nearby, talking to Cody and Amethyst. Naomi was now a sturdy three- year-old and clutched her mother's hand, holding a toy Firespray in the other hand. She was no longer the terrified baby Luke had seen her as, nor was she an only child. Fett cradled her three-month-old baby brother and his first biological child, Jango Fett, Jr., in his arms. Cody and Amethyst, too, had a child of their own, two-year-old Brandon Suk.   
  
That was the most notable change, Luke thought -- the new faces among the Elite. A second generation being brought up to appreciate the galaxy as a New Republic instead of an Empire. His and S'kina's Ben'arri, Han and Leia's Shyan and Shmi, Fett and Liz's Naomi and Jango, Cody and Amethyst's Brandon, Conrad and Diana's Isaiah... Even the New Jedi Order had a second generation of trainees already. Gabriel and Chyna had gotten married in his home country, and they had a daughter, Eponine, who was promptly enrolled in the Jedi Order.   
  
Austin and Liberty remained happily married, though Trapper was now floundering through his early teenage years. Luke was sure, however, that the boy would pass through the experience relatively unscathed -- any boy who could face the Emperor and live to tell the tale could handle adolescence.   
  
As for the rest of the group... not much had changed. Jason and Patrick still worked at Anakin's garage, and Steve, Emily, Darcy, Mike, Gregory, and Tina had experienced no major changes. Zack had surprised everyone by proposing to Opal at the Nova-Con following the Battle of Tatooine, and Opal was currently pregnant with their first child, tentatively named Alexis Jocasta Brown.   
  
At last everyone filed into the lobby, where Opal and Anakin awaited their guests. The publisher had organized a luncheon to honor them for their book -- Anakin's biography, to be released in bookstores the following day.   
  
"Luke," greeted Anakin, embracing his son. "So good to see you again."   
  
"Gan-pa!" exclaimed Ben'arri, attacking his legs.   
  
"And there's Ben!" said Anakin gleefully, scooping him up. "C'mere, you!"   
  
Ben'arri squealed as his grandfather held him high over his head. The action attracted Shmi and Shyan, who immediately began clamoring for attention. Luke laughed at the sight of the tall Jedi being overwhelmed by three toddlers.   
  
"What a time this has been for all of us," Opal observed.   
  
"I never thought I'd be seeing this," Luke marveled. "My son and my father, playing together."   
  
She shrugged. "The Skywalker heritage has come full circle. Your family has been through a lot, but they've come through it stronger than ever."   
  
Luke picked up one of her books. "Congratulations on your first book."   
  
"Thanks. And a second's on the way."   
  
"No kidding!"   
  
"Yeah, I had the manuscript approved just yesterday," she went on, pulling a sheaf of papers from her bag. "It's a dramatized account of how Earth joined the New Republic."   
  
"Care to share?"   
  
Opal flipped past the title page. "Let see... Chapter One... 'The Force had been kind to this star system. The great Sith Wars, a historic milestone for most of the galaxy, were virtually unknown here. The more recent Clone Wars, likewise, had not touched these obscure planets. Nor had the ongoing Galactic Civil War engulfed the system, even as it raged horribly in nearly every other colonized sector of known space. For millennia this system's one hospitable world -- first by simple ignorance but later by enforcement -- had gone blissfully unknown, unmolested, and undisturbed. Until now.'"   
  
The End   
  
Credits   
  
Thanks again to Mom, Keegan, and the Luke/Vader Writers. Also an immense thank you to God for the gift of writing.   
  
Star Wars isn't mine, though I do claim credit for my original characters as well as the Ramothian species, the Kruvexian species, and the Kruvexian culture.   
  
Stormtrooper TK-409's number comes from the Beach Boys' song by the same name (I think). Stormtrooper TK-333's number was originally TK-666 and was changed for obvious reasons.  
  
Liberty's comment and Han's reply in "Chapter I -- Unwelcome Surprise" after Luke's rescue are based on a conversation between Han and Leia in the fanfic "Second Chances" by Kathryn Olsen and Anne Marie Gazzolo.  
  
Fett and Liz's adoption experience in "Chapter III -- Aren't Kids Great?" was inspired by the adoption scene in the movie "The Flintstones."  
  
Luke's "As lovely as I remember it" remark in "Chapter IV -- Cantina Ambush" comes from the "Attack of the Clones" novelization by R.A. Salvatore, only in the book the line was given by Padme.  
  
The song in "Chapter IX -- Fett Family Values" is "Angel Lullaby," from the musical "My Turn On Earth" by Carol Lynn Pearson and Lex de Azevedo. I have changed the word "angel" to "spirit" wherever it appears, as I don't think "angel" means quite the same thing in our universes.  
  
Yes, the squirrel story in "Chapter X -- Love and War" really does come from the movie "Fools Rush In."  
  
Aurra's "I was killing your kind..." line to Gabriel in "Chapter XIII -- Enemy Camp" is from the "Return of the Jedi" novelization by James Kahn, only in the book the line was given by Jabba the Hutt and directed at Luke.  
  
The reactor-shaft battle between Jodo Kast and Boba Fett in "Chapter XVII -- Showdown One: Boba Fett vs. Jodo Kast" was inspired by the cover of the Dark Horse comic book "Star Wars: Twin Engines of Destruction" (which I've never read, but the cover does look cool).  
  
Artoo's thoughts in "Chapter XVIII -- Showdown Two: Pirates vs. Jedi and Republic" come from a phrase by Milo (voiced by Michael J. Fox) in the Disney movie "Atlantis: The Lost Empire."  
  
Chapter quotes come from their cited sources and are accurate to the best of my knowledge.  
  
The persons featured are fictional except for any mentioned Star Wars celebrities. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  
  
Star City, Stellar-Con, Nova-Con, White Deer National Park, and White Deer Lake are fictional locations/events and any resemblance they bear to any actual place/event is also coincidental.  
  
Is anyone actually reading this? 


End file.
